


The Circle's End

by Zaccari



Category: Kane (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 02:11:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaccari/pseuds/Zaccari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when seven years is actually someone’s whole life time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Circle's End

**Author's Note:**

> This is set basically seven years from now, what can I say, I have a thing for 41 year old Christian Kane. I’m not warning for anything else, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing. You’re not going find any death, mpreg or animal sex in here. You will however find the closest thing to sap I’ve ever written.
> 
> Disclaimer: If I owned them I'd be on an island watching them feed each other grapes. Seriously, not mine. I do actually know this. And my sick brain made this all up, I know that as well.

~Steve’s POV~

You know how you have that dream? C’mon, everybody has one. It’s about how you’ll meet up again with the one that got away, you’ll look into each others eyes, the world disappears, time stops and the life you’ve been waiting for finally begins.

You know that dream? Good.

Piss on it, that’s about all it’s good for. Why? Because it’s bullshit.

It’s been seven years since I saw Christian, seven fucking years, and if it wasn’t for the fact we both lucked out and got nominated for the ‘best new old one hit wonders has been’ award, it could have been another twenty years.

Gee, bitter much, Carlson?

No, it’s safe to say there’s no eye catching, no time stopping; he doesn’t even know I’m here. 

Yeah, maybe another twenty years would have been a good thing. Maybe I’d be ready by then. Ready to see how the years have been generous to him, time threading the silver into his hair like a high class, overpriced hair stylist, lining his face with creases that just make his eyes bluer and his smile brighter. Oh yeah, Mother Nature likes her creation of Christian Kane.

So does the blonde on his arm. She’s one of those down home cheerleading beauties Chris always had a soft spot a mile wide for. She’s smiling as he talks to the reporter from whom the fuck knows what network, holding onto his elbow as she smiles up at him.

I’ll bet you any money she has the IQ of used toilet paper.

But since time hasn’t been kind enough to stop for me so I can run into my love’s arms, what do I do? Walk past and see if he notices me? Wave? Jump into his arms anyway? Ignore him, because that’s what worked for us so far?

Except that it was never a conscious decision for us to ignore each other in the first place. It was never that simple.

Or that complicated.

“Steve?”

He noticed me. And I have no fucking idea what to say. What do you say to somebody that was your best friend and is now somebody you run into at some pissant awards ceremony?

“Christian, hey man, it’s good to see you.”

And when it all boils down to it, it is. It’s good to be wrapped in those arms again and have my back slapped so hard that a red mark the size of his hand will be there for hours.

Which won’t actually be long enough.

“Look at you.”

He sounds like my Grandma, ‘look how little Stevie has grown.’ Grandma never had a voice like some fucked up combination of honey, whiskey and sex, though.

“You look good, Steve, real good.”

I look like I’m a forty-year-old California boy, with blond hair who has spent too much time in the sun and finally realised that I was meant to have this pudge about me, and that getting rid of it is not something that belongs on the good ideas list. And while it’s taken me more time than it should have to be happy with what I’ve got, I am now.

Finally.

“You look better you sexy asshole. I saw you were up for something tonight.”

God, that laugh hasn’t lost any of its ‘let me drop to my knees and beg to blow you’ power.

“Yeah, best blue eyes in a country video by an Oklahoman born in Texas. Hey, there’s somebody here I want you to meet.”

I’m not ready for this.

“Rachel? Darlin’, meet the guy you’ve spent too many years hearing about.”

Anything but ready for this.

“Steve Carlson, meet Rachel Hart. Rach, this is the one and only Steve.”

Hart?

Rachel Hart?

“As in Brandon?”

She’s smacking Christian on the arm as she turns to smile at me.

“Don’t mind him, Steve; I’m amazed he’s let out without a keeper and a leash most days.”

It’s nice to know some things never change.

“This vision of loveliness somehow decided to bestow my homely cousin with her presence.”

Rachel rolls her eyes. She’s used to Christian in a way I used to be.

“That’s his way of saying yes, I’m Brandon’s wife.”

“Well, Brandon always was the better catch out of Dumb and Dumber, Rachel, so congratulations. Though why you’d want to be in the company of this redneck tonight I’ll never know.”

“Hey, it’s only fair. Brandon’s home with my girl, so I get to make his a princess for the night.”

“Because we all know the real princess is at home. You’ve even bought her a tiara.”

I have no idea what they’re talking about. Either of them. Other than Chris’ girlfriend, wife, whatever is at home with Brandon for some reason. No, I didn’t think he’d have lived the life of a monk for the last half-decade or so. I actually tried not to think about it at all.

Chris looks…besotted, utterly and completely besotted.

I’m happy for him. Really. Truly.

I am.

“Looks like they’re making hurry up and seat your ass noises, Christian.”

At least the redhead with the clipboard is doing something with her arms, and it’s not get inside I think there’s a plane landing in five minutes.

“Yeah, they are, guess we’d better go.”

He’s not moving. Why is he not moving? I need him to fucking start moving.

“Listen, Steve, it’s been too long, I can’t go to the after party, but I’d like to catch up with you. I’ll be in town for a couple of days, I’m staying at the usual hotel, same old register name, call me?”

I’m silent too long, because he adds something.

“Please?”

“Yeah, I’d like that. I’ll call, tomorrow, we’ll do lunch.”

Putting his hand on his heart, Chris just shakes his head. 

“I’ve resorted to ‘doing’ lunch, my soul will never recover.”

“Move your ass, you drama queen.”

Rachel’s laughing at both of us as Chris leads her inside. The beautiful blonde on Chris’ arm loves him, is married to his cousin, who is home with Chris’ wife.

What was the name of that chick that sang the song about why does everything have to be complicated? Yeah, I can’t remember but she’s providing the soundtrack in my head right about now.

~*~

Christian didn’t win. Which is probably a good thing, whatever the hell that award was would have looked stupid next to the ACMA he won a few years back.

That tells you how much of the night I remember, I can’t remember what the awards were called, let alone who won them. And I only wish it was because I ended up falling down drunk.

Well, actually I don’t, because I’ve put Mom and Dad through enough and they would kill me if I behaved like that again, only child or not. Mom once told me that it wasn’t too late for them to try again. I stuck my fingers in my ears and screamed ‘ewwwwww’ at the top of my lungs. 

My parents should have had more kids to torture, really.

I called Chris this morning, god, at nine. It’s not like I was sleeping any way, I couldn’t get him out of my mind.

Or his wife.

But when Chris answered he sounded like he’d been awake for hours.

I’m really not sure which showed how far we’d both come more: the fact we were both awake and coherent at that time of the morning, or the fact he asked me to call and I did. The next day even.

So, here I am, it’s noon, I’ve been up for hours and waiting for Chris for…approximately the better part of two decades.

“Steve?”

For once, his timing is perfect; I didn’t want to go down that path of ‘gee thanks for nothing’ again,

Standing up, it’s my turn to pull him into a rib-breaking hug.

“Hey, Chris.”

It’s Chris that lets go and backs up first. It always was.

“You do look good, Steve.”

“I think we covered that last night.”

Not that it’s not nice to actually hear those words coming from his mouth; it just feels like the easy out. All surface, no substance.

“Sit, Chris, you’re making the place untidy.”

I’m expecting him to take the chair opposite me, just like ninety-nine percent of the people on this planet would. How could I forget Chris has always been in the one percent sent to fuck with my mind?

He takes the chair beside me and seems to bring it closer. Just like my imagination to still think Chris wants me. He didn’t want me seven years ago; I doubt he wants me now.

“So where’s your sister-in-law this morning? I actually meant it when I invited both of you to lunch.”

There are two very important parts of that statement. One is don’t let the word cousin confuse you; Chris and Brandon were raised like brothers, and brothers they are. Brandon’s the only person Chris has ever let in. And two is I meant my invitation to Rachel and Chris. Honest.

At least that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself.

“Rach wanted to get some shopping in before we headed back to Nashville. I love her, but not that much. Besides I…”

“You what?”

“It’s about time we talked, don’t you think?”

No. I don’t. The time to talk was so long ago, it’s had six anniversaries now.

A sweet little waitress takes our orders, and I’m kind of glad I ordered first, because when Chris orders a salad and sweet tea I’m lost for words.

Until I find them again.

“All I want to know is what happened to us?”

Yeah, that is all I wanted to know, but it was also all I was never going to ask.

“Life. Shit. I don’t know, Steve.”

Years ago. Years and years and another lifetime ago, I would have accepted that as an answer. But the avalanche I’ve spent years tiptoeing right beside has started and I’ve realised I don’t want to stop it. I want to ride it through to the end. 

The bitter end.

“Try again, Chris; that’s not an answer.”

“Steve, life is what happened, whether you like it or not. I moved to Nashville; you stayed here. I was there for the same conversation you were. The ‘this isn’t the end, we’ll still be us’ one. Except that you had your recording and appearance schedule, and I had recording, both the album and the show. I tried the whole calling thing, email. God, I even remember trying to get together once or twice, but we could just never swing it. So the calls dribbled into nothing, emails became two lines that said nothing more than ‘I’m alive, hope you are too’. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Something, anything, is that too much to ask for?

“I still tried calling you, Chris. At Christmas, your birthday. When I got married.”

All I needed from Chris that night was a reaction. An honest to god reaction. All I got was ‘be happy, Steve.’

“You drunk-dialled me the night your divorce was finalised as well.”

I’ll take you word for that, Kane; because that’s a week I’ll never remember.

“My point is, Christian, I tried.”

“And I didn’t? Is that what you’re implying, Steve?”

“I can say it if the implication isn’t clear enough for you.”

With impeccable timing, that’s when lunch arrives. For the next ten minutes we eat and drink, a pastime otherwise known as avoidance. I’m not giving in on this; it’s Chris’ turn to speak and speak he will.

A whole twenty minutes has passed before Chris puts down his fork.

“I had a lot of stuff going on back then.”

“Did you?”

He looks kind of stunned. I’m not sure if it’s because he thought I knew, or that I actually asked the question. God knows I never have before.

“I’m serious, Chris, did you? I was your best friend, you yourself told people that over and over. I was your lover, though fuckbuddy is probably more accurate a term. But you never once let me in, you never let anybody in. So I’ll ask again, did you have a lot happening back then? And is it worth me asking what?”

Fuck, if you’d just shown me something real and honest, just once…well I wouldn’t be divorced; that’s for sure.

“You never used to be this bitter, Steve.”

This is what Chris does, has always done. You think he’s asking about you because that’s how much he cares about your answer. When in reality all he wants to do is avoid talking about himself. Well this time, I’m going to give him what he asked for.

“No, you’re right I didn’t, but let me give you a quick overview of the last seven years of *my* life. You leave for Nashville. I spend the next two years answering every fucking variation of any question involving you and I ever invented. Which is a pretty spectacular effort, since I also spent those same two years drinking Russia’s national debt in vodka to forget you. We should have had the ‘and how did you find your trip to rehab’ conversation about then, but you were nowhere to be found, which is nothing new, so we’ll gloss over that part. Then all newly clean and not making my mom cry any more, I get married to the sweetest little girl you could ever hope to meet. I’d met the love of my life and I was finally going to have the relationship to rival my parents’.”

I can’t help the snort that creeps in then, but it’s not there for the reason Chris might think it is.

“I was right about one thing; I had met the love of my life. Only it wasn’t Emily, it was a red-necked asshole that didn’t care if I was alive or dead. Em wouldn’t live with that, and I couldn’t let her. Divorce is so much more fun when you actually love the person you’re divorcing. Rehab the sequel, like most revisits, sucked like a two-dollar whore. So, there you have it, I’m forty, a recovering alcoholic, divorced and still in love with somebody I don’t fucking know any more. I’m entitled to be bitter as far as I’m concerned.”

Though the strange part of this is if you’d asked if I was feeling like this two days ago, the answer would have honestly been ‘no.’

Chris always did bring out the best in me.

And as I rub my temples, trying to hold off the explosion in my head until I can get somewhere dark, quiet and Chrisless, what is the fucker doing? Going for his wallet.

I’m making modern art with my insides in front of him and he wants to pay for lunch. If I kill him now, does that mean I’ll finally get over him?

“I invited you to lunch, Kane, I’ll pay. Just fucking leave.”

Only it’s not money he pulls from the worn, folded leather as he sits back down. No, he hands me a creased, well-fingered photograph.

The only thing that leaps out at me about the little girl that has her head tucked into Chris’ shoulder is that she has Kane eyes.

“Jenny or Brandon’s?”

We all know what a sucker Chris is for family and kids.

“She’s not my niece, Steve.”

Kane eyes.

“How old is she, Christian?”

I know I’m snarling. I know my face is twisting and turning red, but I don’t have the will power, or the desire left to change either.

“Answer me. How fucking old is your daughter, Kane?”

His answer is that quiet I almost miss it.

“She’s almost seven.”

He has a daughter.

“You knew she was coming when you left L.A., didn’t you?”

He just nods. The fucker just sits there and nods.

“I always wondered where I stood in your life. Guess I’m not wondering any more. Didn’t you…fuck Christian, you were having a fucking kid and you didn’t tell me! I told you fucking everything back then! Every-fucking-thing! And you…”

There aren’t words, or if there are, I don’t know them.

This time it’s me that stands, throwing the picture at his chest as I reach for my own wallet. I won’t be pulling out any pictures of beautiful first graders though, and I am leaving.

I have no idea how much money gets pitched at the table, or if it’ll cover lunch, I just want out of here and away from him.

If I thought I’d been gutted before, I’m pretty sure I was wrong then.

“Goodbye, Christian.”

You know that whole don’t look back thing? It’s a lot fucking harder than it sounds.

~*~

~Riley’s POV~

“Did you know he has a fucking daughter?”

Is it possible to have been dreading something for so long you’ve actually forgotten exactly how much you’ve been dreading it?

Because for four years I’ve been praying that question was never asked of me. And no, I don’t need to ask who’s calling or who he’s talking about.

“Riley?”

“Yeah, Steve, I knew.”

God, I wish my brain knew the meaning of save your own ass; I really do.

“You fucking…does everybody know? Is this a group secret? Or am I just everybody’s favourite joke?”

“Okay, first things first, Steve, pull the fuck over will you? Because driving like a bat out of hell and screaming like a banshee at me is a recipe for you driving under a truck. Call me back when you’ve stopped; I’ll be waiting.”

Hanging up stops him from arguing and hopefully gives me five minutes to pull myself together.

Steve finally knows about Chris’ daughter. I wonder how long it’ll take him to ask about her mom, or the possibility Chris has a wife, because I doubt his brain has made that connection yet.

I wonder who’ll be driving Steve to rehab this time? Because I think it’s Jared’s turn.

Fuck.

Why don’t I ever get the telegrams warning about an incoming shit storm? There should be a mandatory twenty-four hour warning for anything that involves Christian Kane and Steve Carlson so the rest of us can move to Aruba or something.

And again, fuck.

I want to call Jensen, and make him come over so he can suffer too. I’d like to call Chris and ask him why the hell he has to go all lone wolf all the damn time, because it makes life for us mere mortals that love him fucking hard. I’m debating on curling up under my bed when the pounding on the front door starts.

Guess Steve found that somewhere safe to pull over. Now how to open said door without getting a left hook to the jaw?

One last time, fuck.

“C’mon in, Steve; it’s open.”

I’m heading to the kitchen; we’re gonna need coffee for this one.

“Is Amy home?”

Oh, I’d love to lie and say ‘yes, sure, she’s here, somewhere’. Steve won’t hit me if I’ve got my wife’s skirts to hide behind.

“No, she’s not. Yell and curse all you want, Steve, just no bruises where the camera will see, please?”

Of all the things I was expecting, Steve deflating like a popped balloon as he falls into a chair at the kitchen table wasn’t one of them.

“Why, Riley, just tell me why.”

There’s never not coffee two-thirds ready in this house so I’ve already got two mugs of it when I sit down opposite Steve and hand one to him.

“I found out by accident about four years ago. I have no idea if he even knows I know. I was guesting on some show that filmed next to the Leverage set and I was leaving when Chris walked out. I was about to call him an asshole or a jerk or something, when Brandon comes from nowhere saying ‘There’s Daddy’ as he hands Chris this beautiful creature with strawberry-blonde hair and huge blue eyes.”

“Kane eyes.”

Yeah.

“Chris wouldn’t have noticed Christ resurrecting in front of him as he walked away talking to the baby.”

“So how did you know it was his daughter?”

“Just because Chris didn’t see me doesn’t mean Brandon missed me too.”

“He just told me that the little girl was Chris’, and that he’d appreciate it if word that she was his didn’t reach the tabloids.”

“So he’s married.”

That would actually be a fairly good guess when it came to Chris, and Steve didn’t phrase it as a question.

“No, Steve, he’s not. It’s just him and-“

Oh, fuck me.

“Steve, how did you find out about Chris’ baby?”

“He was at the same awards show I was last night, with Brandon’s wife on his arm. We talked, I said I’d call, so I did and I also invited him to lunch. He sat down; I asked him what happened to us, because I figured I was part of the us involved I should know. From that point, it turned into a ‘yes I’m bitter and twisted’ bitch fight, and Chris trumped everything I threw at him with one picture of him holding his fucking six-year-old daughter, who now has hair the colour of apricots for what it’s worth. He has a baby, Riley, and didn’t even bother to tell the people he called friends.”

Or the one he called darlin’ because none of us believed Steve when he bitched and told Chris how much he hated it.

“So he didn’t tell you anything else?”

“I didn’t give him the chance. I walked away rather than send him home to his kid with a broken nose.”

Yeah, I’m kind of glad Chris wasn’t on the receiving end of the fist that gets slammed into the table, rattling the coffee cups, but before I can say what I know I have to, Steve’s off again.

“He never fucking got that he never let me in, not once! He always said I was the closest person to him that wasn’t blood. We had fight after fucking fight about me just wanting to be a part of his life away from a microphone stand. His answer always was ‘you are.’ But that asshole sat down with me, before he headed back to twang town, and he promised me we’d be fine. He had a kid coming I knew nothing about and he said we’d be fucking fine.”

That’s about when Steve just falls onto the table, sliding his arms out straight in front of him and his head hits the wooden top.

“All I ever wanted was to see behind the cowboy hat, to know what he was like on the inside and he…he’s a daddy.”

Oh god, why do I have to be the one telling him this?

“I think Chris thought he was showing you that, Steve, and he was protecting you from everything else.”

“Do I look like I have a pussy or need protecting to you, Riley?”

“I didn’t say I agree with him, Steve; I’m just telling you how I think he saw it.”

“You’re wrong.”

I don’t think so.

“Did Chris tell you his baby’s name, Steve?”

The only answer I get is Steve rocking his head back and forth without actually lifting it up.

Please don’t let him hit my face; Amy will not be amused.

“Well, Brandon told me. Her name is Stephanie, but Chris calls her Stevie.”

Steve’s heart has been through an awful lot in the last too many years, but the look on his face tells me that now it’s finally broken.

~*~

~Steve’s POV~

I wonder if he knew this is what would happen? If he thinks he knows me well enough to know that curiosity would eventually get the better of me.

Guess he would have been right then, wouldn’t he?

Because here I am, six weeks later, sitting in my still running car as I lean on the steering wheel, halfway down his driveway looking at the house in front of me. It’s a little different to his first Nashville home, but Keith and Nicole it ain’t. It’s a two-story ranch house with blue trim and flowerpots and a swing on the front porch. There’s a tricycle next to a purple castle that’s just off to the side of the main building. I could fucking swear that’s a vegetable patch behind the Princess’ royal kingdom.

No, this isn’t a status symbol, it’s a home.

The home of Christian and Stephanie Kane.

Thank god Momma Kane hasn’t moved or changed her number, that’s all I’ve got to say, because this place is a little out of the way and Chris has always been very good at hiding himself.

Okay, I’m doing this. Putting the car back in drive, I finish my journey into the unknown and pull up beside another clapped out old Ford.

Some things just never change.

Well almost never change. There’s a booster seat instead of empty beer bottles on the passenger seat now.

I can do this.

It’s not until I knock at the door that I notice the noise. Music, a dog barking, feet running.

Chris hollering.

“Stevie, don’t answer-“

The door’s open and three and a half feet of devil with an angel’s face is standing in front of me.

Neither of us gets a chance to speak though before Chris catches up with her. I can see why it took him a while; he’s wrestling with a decidedly goofy looking dog that is probably big enough for his daughter to ride. It’s not me that he addresses though.

“Stevie, I told you, you don’t answer the door alone.”

“It’s just Steve, Daddy.”

She knows who I am, and I barely know her fucking name.

“Doesn’t matter who it is this time, baby; you wait for me before you open the door, okay?”

The angel nods.

“Now, take Bocephus out onto the back porch, please?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Stevie does nothing more than trail a little hand along the spine of Bocephus and he follows along behind her, like she had him on a string.

There’s a war going on in my head as to which of the things spinning around my brain will be allowed out first.

_‘Hello.’_

_‘You named her after me?’_

_‘How are you?’_

_‘She’s beautiful.’_

_‘You named the dog after Hank Jr.?’_

_‘I miss you. I miss us.’_

But something else entirely wins.

“How does she know who I am, Chris?”

Stepping back, he finally fully opens the door as he points down the hallway.

“Third door on the left.”

What?

“Christian-“

I’m growling and he’s cutting me off.

“You wanted to know how Stevie knows about you; the answer is behind the third door on the left. I presume you’re staying for dinner, so I need to find another steak.”

Let me try this again.

“Chris-“

“Yeah, I know, Steve, we have to talk. But it’ll have to wait until Stevie’s asleep, which now that you’re here will probably be sometime next Tuesday. But in the mean time-“

“Yeah, I know, third door on the left.”

We’re both trying to smile; that counts, right?

“We’ll be in the kitchen, when you’re done. Just follow your nose, it’s not hard to find.”

And ever the gracious host, Chris just walks away leaving me standing in his entryway.

We’re not acting like it’s been as many years as it has been drinks, but we’re not acting like it was yesterday either.

This is new for us. Not to mention about as comfortable as Miami in July when your A/C is broken.

But for whatever reason he wants me to do this his way, so I’m walking down the hall to the door I’m meant to find and open.

His music room.

And I’ve finally found one part of Chris’ life that I recognise. Okay, he never used to have award statuettes propping open the closet, but this room looks like a paper monster vomited all over it, and that I know. There are three guitars next to a table that could be made of gold or apple crates, because nobody would know what’s buried under the amount of paper all over the top.

Though the doll, teddy bear, and tea set under the table are something I’ve never seen before.

There are two more tables in much the same condition as the first over by the windows. The open closet actually holds another two guitars and a Big Bird doll. From what I can see there are two chairs, five coffee mugs and half of what was once a sandwich also scattered around the room. And more notebooks and loose paper sheets. A shit load more.

I’d love to be able to pick one up and see what’s been going through Chris’ head over the years. He’d never call what he does journaling, but what he writes down as song ideas, snippets and random lines is that and so much more. I’m not stupid though, so nothing gets touched. I know that Chris knows where he put every single piece of paper and this is all in some kind of fucked up order that would make sense nowhere that isn’t Chris’ brain.

But how Stevie knows me from this fire hazard I don’t have the foggiest idea.

Then I look beyond the expected trash heap and see the wall to my right. You’d expect the platinum and gold records to be front and centre, but no. That place is held by a framed poster from a triple bill show he played about two years ago. Chris, Shooter Jennings and Alice in Chains. I know what being on that bill meant to him. I was there, in the crowd; I could see it on his face.

I’d like to get the chance to tell him that.

It’s not until I step closer to the wall that I realise it’s not just Christian Kane flyers and posters that decorate the wall. Kane’s here too. Christ, I didn’t know half of these existed and Chris has them framed and hanging on his wall.

Still not getting how any of this would be how Stevie knows me. It’s like Chris would have to explain that Kane was us and not just him.

Turning around, I’m about to walk out when I notice the opposite wall isn’t more of the same. Stepping closer, my jaw just drops. I couldn’t tell you what I was expecting, but I can tell you it wasn’t what’s in front of me.

Photographs.

The wall is basically wallpapered with framed pictures. Of Christian, solo and rocking the world. Of Chris and Brandon. Of Chris and god knows how many other people.

But the one right in front of me is of us and was taken at the Barfly. Just to its left is one that was taken at our first Viper Room show. The three beside that one are just of me and I have no fucking idea when they were taken. The last one in line though, I know that one, and it’s barely fucking six months old.

Now I know how Stevie knows me, she’s grown up staring at my picture on the wall.

My hands are clenching so tightly I can feel my pulse pound in them. I’m going to kill him. I’m gong to pound his fucking pretty boy face until it’s nothing but a bloody pulp.

Doesn’t he fucking realise if he’d just let me be a part of him, his daughter would know me, not just my fucking face pressed behind some non-reflective glass. 

I know Chris; he thinks this is showing me how he made me a part of his daughter’s life, when all he’s showing me is everything I never had.

I’ve never, and I do mean never, hated Chris until right here, right now.

My hands stop clenching, only because they have to wipe the tears I’m not crying from my eyes. All I want to do is walk out of there, lay that bastard out cold and leave, but I can’t. Because he’s out there cooking dinner. With his daughter.

Why the fuck does it always feel like it’s me that has to suck it up?

For a second, I stand in the middle of a room it’s not fair for me to hate, with my eyes closed and just ask myself what I want to do. I do this since I got sober, literally ask myself what it is I want.

So, Steve, what do you want to do? Right here, right now, what do you want?

That’s simple, I want to smack Chris fair in the mouth and get to know Stevie. And to do both of those I have to walk out of this room and into the kitchen.

If Chris wants to talk, we’ll talk. But we’re going to talk my way, not his. With words, and sentences and fucking sounds. None of this goddamn hand waving shit he does.

Three deep breaths later I’m opening my eyes and I know what I’m doing.

I’m going to eat dinner with two people I don’t know. One, I’d like to know, and the other? 

The other one leaves me so damn confused I’m lucky to remember my own name, but they’re a package deal, so yeah, walking out of Chris’ fucking explanation and closing the door behind me.

Walking towards the kitchen, I know I’m taking my time, measuring every step as I move toward the laughter of a child and soft rumble of sound I know is Chris. The smile I plaster on my face is faker than Pamela Anderson’s wrinkle free face but it’s staying there.

“I’ll take my steak medium rare, Chris.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

Fucking shame you couldn’t remember a few other things, Kane.

Yeah, ignore that and him as I turn toward the little girl with eyes bigger and brighter than both her father’s and her uncle’s. And that’s saying something.

“Now, I don’t think we’ve formally met, little lady.”

She just laughs at me.

“You’re Steve.”

You’re so fucking dead, Christian.

“That I am. And your name is?”

“Stephanie Judith Kane.”

Yeah, the Judith figures.

Holding my hand out to her, I wait for her to reach hers out to me before I bend down, kissing the back of hers gently.

“Hello Miss Stephanie, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“You’re silly.”

I’m a lot of things that might as well be one of them.

“And you have the prettiest laugh. What’s Daddy cooking for dinner? And is there anything I can do to help?”

“Steak and salad, and no, we’re all good. Stevie take Steve to the table and I’ll dish this up.”

Still with her hand in mine, Stevie leads me to the table and tells me I’m sitting next to her, opposite Chris as she climbs onto her chair and into her booster seat.

Okay, now what happens?

“I have your name.”

Okay, God, I’m sorry I asked.

“You sure do, honey. I think it’s prettier on you than it is on me, though.”

Chris says something I don’t catch but don’t get a chance to ask him to repeat it before he puts dinner down in front of me, then Stevie before heading back to the counter to grab his own. Stroking a hand over Stevie’s hair, he sits down quietly.

“You want to say grace, baby?”

Stevie’s sweet smile is his answer, so I’m guessing that’s a yes. God, how could I have forgotten how Southern Chris is at times?

“Thank you God, for the food Daddy’s cooked. Thank you for my daddy too. And thank you for bringing Steve to dinner, God. Daddy’s missed him. Amen.”

Both of us echo her amen with our own, and neither of us says a word as we dig into the steak.

Because really, there’s nothing to say.

~*~

Dinner is quiet, or as quiet as it can be with a six year old trying to talk around a mouthful of food and her dad trying to stop her. Telling me about her horse, which apparently isn’t the dog, her dog, the three cats in the barn, Uncle Brandon, Aunty Rachel, Memma, Granddaddy…okay the only thing quiet about dinner was me and Chris.

But by the time dinner was done, all Stevie could do was rub her barely half-open eyes with a very tight little fist.

“Okay, bath time then bed, Stevie-girl.”

There’s a small protest, but she still climbs into Chris’ arms when he holds them open.

“I’ll just clean up down here.”

“You don’t have to, Steve.”

Yeah, I kind of do, because listening to the two of them go through this routine just might kill me.

“Nah, it’s cool, I want too.”

I live to clean kitchens nowadays.

“Steve?”

God, she’s fighting sleep so damn hard.

“What, little lady?”

“Will you come and listen when Daddy reads me my story?”

“Of course, I will, but if you don’t go have your bath now, there’ll be no story, you’ll be asleep long before then.”

“C’mon, Daddy, go!”

She doesn’t lift her head from his shoulder, but the enthusiasm is there. And Chris doesn’t say a word as he turns and heads out of the room.

What in hell am I doing? The longer I stay here, the more I watch the two of them interact, the more I want. And I already want everything.

The dishwasher is loaded, fresh coffee being made and everything cleaned away before I hear Chris call down.

“It’s story time, Steve.”

Okay, I can do this. I leave two cups ready and waiting for coffee I’m gonna need after this as I head upstairs. 

Stevie’s room isn’t hard to find and completely what I would have expected. It’s pink and there are toys everywhere. There’s a princess canopy bed, and a rocking chair. The quilt in soft blues and purples that covers Stevie’s bed is one I know Momma Kane made.

What I wasn’t expecting is Chris sitting beside his baby, wearing glasses and holding a copy of Green Eggs and Ham . Or Stevie patting the other side of her bed with a sleepy stroke.

“Sit here, Steve, while Daddy reads.”

So I sit and while Chris reads Dr Seuss, Stevie cuddles into him, falling asleep with her tiny hand resting on my hip. Despite her being asleep about five pages in, Chris keeps reading until the end of the book, and something tells me he doesn’t really need to be paying attention to the words on the page to recite it.

Lifting Stevie’s hand, I move from under it and bend to kiss her cheek. 

“I’ll meet you outside, Chris.”

I’m gone before he can say anything. You know, if he was to say anything. Which he probably wasn’t.

The walk downstairs is just long enough to take the shine from my eyes, so I can actually see when I pour coffee into the cups, adding cream to mine, and sugar to Chris’, before I grab my cup and walk outside.

Fifteen minutes later, Chris walks out onto the back porch, still wearing his glasses and carrying his coffee as he sits down beside me on the swing. Yeah, I knew I should have sat somewhere else.

“I thought the glasses were a stage prop, Chris.”

“They were when we started the show. Now? My arms are too fucking short for me to read without them. I got old, Steve.”

“You’re forty-one, Kane, not four hundred and one.”

Chris just shakes his head.

“I feel older than you’ll ever know, Steve. Chasing after Stevie, the music, the show, some days I feel like I’m four thousand.”

“Yeah, well, whose fucking fault is that?”

Okay, apparently I’ve had enough of even-tempered and holding shit in. It’s time to let it all hang out.

“What’s that mean, Steve?”

Putting down my coffee cup takes away my option of throwing it at him and that’s probably a good thing.

“Do you have any idea, and I do mean *any* idea, how much I hate you right now? You have a fucking kid, a beautiful, amazing kid, and I know you, you’re expecting me to be so freaked out about that. Guess what, I’m not. Because there but for the grace of god go I. The fact between all of us there’s only one mistake-“

“Stevie is not a mistake; my daughter was never a fucking mistake, Steve. Unplanned, sure, but she was never unwanted and she is meant to be here. That’s not a mistake to me.”

Okay, it’s hard to argue with that, because putting mistake and that angel in the same sentence is just fucking wrong. And Chris isn’t done talking.

“So, if Stevie isn’t your problem, what the fuck is?”

“That her name is Stevie. That she’s six years old and your sun and your moon and if it wasn’t for some stupid, utterly redundant awards ceremony I still wouldn’t know she was alive!”

Why can’t he understand this? Fuck, it seems as obvious as Santa in July to me.

“You have to understand-“

“What? Christ, what do I *have* to understand?”

I know that would have been better said without the sarcasm, but you’re getting what I’ve got right now, Kane.

“I didn’t know how you’d react!”

Now I know why I never heard my parents fight. You can argue while whispering just as effectively as you can when you’re screaming.

“For seven fucking years, you didn’t know? Christian, you raised your daughter, incredibly well from what I can see, to know my face and I’m guessing my voice, when if you hadn’t been so fucking pigheaded, she could have known me!”

“Before, after or during the drive through town alcoholism?”

Pushing myself out of the swing I walk into the dark, staring at nothing and wrapping my arms around my middle trying to stem the bleeding.

“Steve, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“Kane, you never say anything you don’t mean, did you honestly think I’d forgotten that?”

As much as I wish I could. You just don’t waste words, even those that are in endless supply. You know, like ‘I love you’.

“Before you left for Nashville you drank as much as I did. In fact I’ll bet you were anything but sober the night Stevie was conceived. I wasn’t a drunk then, Christian. I’m not blaming you; I’ve been through enough counselling to know it was all my own doing. But you had a reason to clean up, and who the fuck knows what would have fucking happened if I’d have had the same reason.”

“No, that doesn’t sound like you’re blaming me, not at all. So what, my daughter could have been your reason for sobering up? Your fucking carrot?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Turning around to face Chris, I’m glaring at him, even if he can’t see my face.

“Not your daughter, Christian, you! You could have been my reason. I. Do. Not. Know. Your. Daughter.”

“This isn’t helping anything.”

No, really?

“You’re right; it’s not. Because you’re not fucking listening. You hear every word I say without comprehending a single one of them. But then again, I guess you’re right about one thing, because right now your daughter is the only reason I’m still here. Tonight at least.”

At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

“You hate me?”

Fuck, and people think Jared has the attention span of road kill. I get dizzy keeping up with Chris’ back and forth conversations, and I can’t believe I’d forgotten that.

“Christian, listen to this, because it is very important, you named your daughter after me, you have pictures on your wall of me that aren’t even six months old when you haven’t spoken to me in as many years, you let me call you through that time and fucking cry to your answering machine. Somewhere in your head you wanted me, and I’m guessing you missed me as well. Stevie is almost irrelevant. You’ve made me such a huge part of your fucking life and never once thought to actually include me, so yes, I hate you for that.”

“I didn’t know if you’d want to…didn’t think…”

He just trails off and I’m so fucking sick of this.

“What part of ‘I love you’ made you think I didn’t want to be a part of your life? What part of me spending years singing about wanting a baby made you think…whatever the fuck you thought. I’m so fucking over having to take what I’m given when it comes to you. I still want you, Christian. I want to get to know Stevie; who knows, the word family even springs to mind. But what I want doesn’t matter, it has never fucking mattered. Because you have to show me you want it as well, and if you don’t…if you don’t, have a nice life, Chris. It’s your turn to do the chasing, your turn to let me in. Think about it, Chris. And tell Stevie it was nice meeting her.”

Finally.

I don’t want to talk anymore, I’ve said everything I want to say, and if I walk away now there’s a chance I’ll be able to keep going when I never hear from him again.

Because it’s not like he does anything to stop me as I leave anyway.

~*~

~Chris’ POV~

“Hi, Momma.”

“Hello, sweet boy, how is everything going?”

“I’m tired, miserable and I want to come home.”

Yep, that about sums it all up. God, I sound like a ten year old at camp, instead of a grown man doing something he does actually love.

Even if I’m having a hard time remembering that right now.

“I’ve f-made a mistake, Momma. And I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Christian, baby, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is Stephanie okay? Brandon? Rachel?”

“Stevie’s happier than a pig belly deep in mud. Brandon’s fine but driving us all insane, because Rachel is brilliant when she’s not puking into a trash can.”

Brandon’s never going to survive this pregnancy. I’ll kill him before month six at the rate he’s going.

But basically everybody is just wonderful. Everybody but me.

“Then I need a little more information before I can be of any help, Christian.”

That makes two of us, Momma.

“I, ahhh, I saw Steve when Rachel and I went to L.A.”

I have no idea why this is so hard for me to talk about, especially with Momma.

“Rachel did mention that, baby.”

No reason for her not to really.

“He didn’t exactly take it all that well when I told him about my baby girl, Mom.”

I’ve been hearing that sigh all my life and for a non-word it says so damn much.

“Christian, did you honestly think he would? I know you, you always have the best of intentions, but I’ve often wondered why you called that sweet child Stephanie. Is it because you needed a part of Steven with you? Or is it because you needed a ready made reason for him to forgive you when he finally found out why you cut him out of your life?”

That was a rhetorical question – wasn’t it? The lengthening silence is starting to tell me no, it wasn’t, but I can’t answer it anyway.

“I miss him, Momma.”

“Christian, you’ve been missing him for the last seven years, what’s changed now?”

“I finally admitted it?”

“Well, thank the Lord for that.”

Sarcasm does not become my mother.

“So, Christian, what are you going to do now?”

Yeah, this is where we came in.

“I don’t know what to do, Momma, I told you that.”

“Have you see Steven since that night? Spoken to him?”

“Yes, and kind of?”

That really shouldn’t have been a question, but a question it’s gonna stay. For the moment at least.

“Kind of, Christian?”

Oh boy, do I know that tone of voice. It takes me from forty-one to about four in a syllable or two.

“Yes, Ma’am. He came out to Tennessee and had dinner with Stevie and me.”

“And?”

Like she wouldn’t know there had to be an and.

“And after Stevie went to bed, Steve told me it was my turn to do the chasing, to let him in, or to leave him alone.”

I honestly don’t know if he’s even going to want to talk to me now, because I went with the leave him alone option.

“How long ago was that?”

“Three weeks.”

I could have sworn she was going to yell at me for that, but silence is all I get.

All in all, I’d prefer Momma to start yelling.

“Christian?”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“When you first told your father and I about Steve, and about being bisexual, do you remember what I asked you?”

That whole conversation is kind of hard to forget.

“You asked me if I loved him. And kept asking once every six months until I finally said ‘yes’.”

The answer before then has always been ‘I’m not sure’. Because Momma wasn’t asking me if I loved him like a best friend cum fuckbuddy.

She asked six times before she got her yes.

“Now the fact my granddaughter is even here proves you both made mistakes, but did you ever tell Steven how you felt about him?”

“Yes.” Here comes that three-letter word again. “But nowhere near as much as I should have.”

“Well, at least you can admit that I suppose. Steven’s not from Oklahoma, Christian, and he hasn’t been raised a Kane. He has needs that include hearing the word. You need to treat him more like Stephanie than Brandon.”

Yeah, now there’s a way to really hammer that point home.

But Momma knows when she’s scored a direct hit and she just keeps talking.

“So, Christian, all that’s left to do is answer my one question. Are you in love with Steven?”

“Yes.”

I answer on instinct, but half a dozen heartbeats later I realise it wouldn’t have mattered if I had thought about it, the answer would still be the same.

“Sweet boy, try telling him that. Because I think Steven’s right. This time it is up to you.”

Translation? Suck it up, princess.

There’s just one tiny problem.

“Momma? All of my numbers for Steve are seven years old.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing I have a current one, isn’t it?”

You fucking what? 

And please tell me that wasn’t out loud, because I’m not too old to be taken out behind the woodshed.

There’s no ‘Christian Michael’ being hissed at me, so it was in my head. Thank god.

“Momma, how do you…not that I’m not glad you do, but how do you?”

Yeah, that made sense.

“Christian, how do you think Steven knew how to find you and Stephanie?”

Okay, that hadn’t occurred to me. I guess because it was Steve.

“I never really thought about it, I was just kind of happy he was there. But if Steve called you, why did you ask if I‘d spoken to him?”

“He’d only asked for directions, Christian, I didn’t know if he’d done anything with them. Now, would you like this phone number? I think it’s past time you called him, child, don’t you?”

I wonder if Momma will ever actually admit I’m gone forty? Yeah, she’s Momma, so probably not. I just take down the number, tell her I love her and promise that Stevie will call her tomorrow before I hang up.

It’s not that I don’t want to call Steve, but, yeah, I go check on Stevie, watching over her for five minutes or so, before I head back to my room, sit on my bed, and yeah, I’m the one sucking it up.

The phone rings, and rings some more so the only thing I feel when voice mail kicks in is disappointment. Just because I knew what I deserved doesn’t mean I wasn’t hoping he’d answer anyway.

_‘It’s me. I’m kind of tied up right now, so leave a message and I’ll call you back.’_

“Steve, it’s me – Christian. I, ummm, I wanted to…just say hi, or something. We’ll, the band, Stevie, me, we’ll be in L.A. next week. I’d like to…fuck, I’d like to take you out to dinner…and there’s a free day in there somewhere, and we’d like to take you out then, if you were free…or in town, or something. Yeah, anyway, could you call me? Please?”

Leaving my number, I disconnect the phone and try and remember how to breathe. I’m not sure I succeeded with that mission, not that night anyway.

~*~

~Steve’s POV~

_‘Steve, it’s me – Christian. I, ummm, I wanted to…just say hi, or something. We’ll, the band, Stevie, me, we’ll be in L.A. next week. I’d like to…fuck, I’d like to take you out to dinner…and there’s a free day in there somewhere, and we’d like to take you out then, if you were free…or in town, or something. Yeah, anyway, could you call me? Please?’_

“Okay, by my count that’s the thirteenth time you’ve listened to that, Carlson. You calling him back or not?”

It’s a damn good thing Jensen doesn’t know about the other twenty or so times, right?

This was waiting for me when I got home from the studio two nights ago. Jensen’s on hiatus from his new show where he plays the world’s first alien cowboy moon cow rustler or something like that, so he’s here annoying the shit out of me because Jared’s in Japan filming…okay I have no idea what he’s filming but I’m not going to admit that out loud. 

But, yeah, Chris and the message.

Are you going to call him back, Steve?

“Steve?”

The smile I give Jen is kind of confused. Just like the rest of me.

“He has a daughter, Jen.”

“Kane? As in Christian? Has a kid? Why the fuck is he calling you after all this time if he’s married with a kid?”

Yeah, see there’s the logical assumption, that Chris would marry his baby’s momma. And I have no fucking idea if he did or not. When I said ‘we need to talk’, I guess I should have hung around long enough to ask questions.

“He’s not married. His little girl is almost seven…and her name is Stevie.”

No, that doesn’t get any less weird no matter how many times you practice saying it in front of the mirror.

Looking up, I finally met Jensen’s eyes just in time for him to do his best dying fish out of water impersonation.

“Yes, she was on the way when he pulled that fucking disappearing act of his. Riley found out by accident four years ago and never said a word.” Which still fucking amazes me. “And…and we had dinner a few weeks back, me, him and Stevie. I told him he had to chase me, and now that he has there’s so much I don’t fucking know. Does he want the same thing I want? Do I want a life with a kid that fucking knows me and I have no clue who she is apart from the fact she has beautiful red hair and blue eyes? And I‘ve just realised I have no fucking idea where Stevie came from.”

Jensen just walks across the room and literally pushes me to sitting in the nearest armchair.

“First of all, Jared, breathe. Second of all, when a mommy and a daddy love each other in that special way-“

“Not helping, Ackles!”

“Seriously, Steve, lighten up, okay? And before you say it, I know this is no laughing matter, but you’ve obviously been over-thinking this ten ways from Sunday since you had that dinner with Chris and you’re ready to explode. So stop channelling my lover and talk to me. Though I want to hear more about this kid, because Chris as a daddy is kind of making my head spin.”

This part I can do.

“Stevie is this livewire with apricot hair and has Chris wrapped around her little fingers. I don’t know how nobody knows about her,” that’s another question for the list “but she knows me. Knows my name, knows why it’s her name…she knows so much, I’ll bet Chris has never dodged a question from her in his life. Chris didn’t understand why I said I hated him for that. I did, Jen, god I hated him right then and there, and part of me still does.”

I can literally see Jensen try and process everything, and he’s silent for a minute or two while his brain catches up.

“Okay, I’m just gonna go with the relevant part of all of that. Chris cut the lot of us out of his life, named his daughter after you, told her all about you and told us exactly nothing and he couldn’t understand why that left you less than happy? Does turning forty rot your brain?”

“He wasn’t forty when Stevie was born, so no it doesn’t.”

Here it comes.

“Does he know what he’s taken from me, Jensen? Okay, I don’t know why there’s a daughter and no mother, but there’s a father, and fuck, I love that father. I could have…would have helped him with pretty much anything and everything. Raising her, loving her and loving him and every second of it. We could have had that together, fuck it, I would have settled for being Uncle Steve and having to sneak out of his bed before dawn, how could he not have understood that? Didn’t he know how much I loved him? How could he not fucking know that? We could have been a family.”

I could have had a family. It’s what I always wanted, just me and Chris. Stevie would have been a miracle.

“How could he think I’d think she was a mistake?”

“Maybe because she was?”

Jen raises a hand to cut me off before I can jump all over him.

“I don’t mean the baby, just her conception. I’m fairly certain it was a mistake, an accident, Steve. And maybe Chris saw it as something he thought you couldn’t forgive.”

“Why the fuck would he do that?”

“Because maybe that’s how he would have felt if the shoe was on the other foot.”

Chris…me…what?

“What the fuck are you on about, Jensen?”

“Steve, Chris was always jealous when it came to you. You had this stupid ‘chicks are okay to fuck around with’ rule that neither of you wanted but neither of you would tell the other that. Christ, the nights I spent with Chris drunk off his ass because you’d gone home with Denise, Dani, or Debbie. And usually you only went because you thought Chris wanted you too. Anyway, I could have sworn his tears had watered down what he was drinking too much for him to actually get drunk, but apparently not. Anyway, my point is he was jealous and he hated it, and I’m fairly certain if you’d come to him and said ‘I’ve gotten Denise, Dani, or Debbie pregnant’ he could never have forgiven you because you’d given a part of yourself, a part of your soul, that you could never give to Chris, to a stranger.”

“Chris can’t get pregnant.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious, and that’s kind of not my point. My point is both of you wanted more and different and you talked, just never to each other. Now Chris is back, with a kid, and you’re annoyed, you couldn’t hate him even though I know you want too, which is fair enough. Thing is, Steve, he called, like you asked him too, asked you on a date and for two days you’ve been dicking around on calling him back. It’s time to fish or cut bait, man, and only you can decide which way you’re gonna go. But I am going to add my two cents before I leave you be. What you’re fishing for? It’s the catch of a lifetime. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jensen’s said his peace and he doesn’t wait for any input from me before he lets himself out.

This was all meant to be Chris’ fault. He walked away. He left me.

I just never asked him to stay.

Picking up the phone I dial the number he left me and wait, praying it’s not too late.

~Christian’s POV~

All I can do is stare as my phone flashes Steve’s name along with some impatient ring tone that screams ‘Answer me!’ I didn’t think he was going to call back. After the first day had gone by I actually worked pretty hard to convince myself he wouldn’t.

Now though, I’ve got about three seconds before this goes to voicemail.

And I’m answering.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Chris, it’s Steve.”

I knew that but god it’s nice to hear his voice confirm it.

“Hey.”

Fuck.

“Thanks for calling me back.”

Fuckity fuck fuck.

“I almost didn’t.”

That’s honesty I probably could have lived without having been shared with me.

“I…thank you, I’m glad you did anyway.”

No this doesn’t suck, not at all.

“You alone?”

“Yeah, Stevie’s in her bunk, sound asleep, with Bocephus standing guard. The driver’s at the other end of the bus to me.”

“You bring the Shetland pony on tour?”

That makes me smile.

“You make it sound like it’s a choice. When it comes to Stevie and that dog, a choice is the last thing I have.”

Just when I thought the conversation was on a roll, it stops, Steve going deathly quietly.

“I don’t know how to start this conversation, Chris, so I’m just going to come out and say it. Where we go when I’m done is…something we’ll discuss when I’m done. I have about a thousand questions to do with Stevie, like where is her mom? How is she not spread across ‘People’ and ‘The National Enquirer’? And I want to get to them, all of them, but there’s something else that’s more important first, because if you don’t agree with me, all of that is irrelevant.”

It’s a good thing he doesn’t expect me to say anything, because right now I can’t breathe, let alone talk.

“I’m tired of beating around the bush with you, Christian, we’ve been doing that for the last fifteen, twenty years, so here it is. I want it all with you. The good, the bad and the very fucking ugly. I want to love you, fight with you, do the fucking laundry with you. I want to be somebody real to your daughter, somebody important. And I want it to be me and you and Stevie, nobody else, ever. A family Chris, our family, that’s what I need. I know it’s going to take some work and we have to get to know each other all over again, but if we’re not trying to end up in the same place, tell me now so I can hang up and get over you. I can’t do half way again, Chris, I just can’t.”

Okay, I can breathe now. And I even know what to say.

“Shannon was a student when I met her, though met is over stating it. I was in a bar in Norman with Brandon, and I woke up beside her, which is pretty much all I remember. I’ve always been kind of surprised Stevie was conceived that night, if my sperm were as drunk as I was. For a reason I’ll never be able to verbalise, I left her Brandon’s number in case she needed to get hold me. Eight weeks later, she did. Funny thing is, Shannon couldn’t tell you why she called me either, she didn’t have to tell me she was getting an abortion. She was in college, a baby wasn’t something she’d planned on, and her life was just starting out.”

Steve’s sharp intake of air says things I can’t dwell on right now, so I just keep talking.

“Everything was such a fucking mess then, Steve, you, me, me going to Nashville without you, trying to gear up the album and the show all at the same time. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew I couldn’t let Shannon get rid of my baby, it was the only certain thing I had. I’m not saying I did much right at that point in my life, in fact I’ll admit to pretty much the exact opposite, but talking to Shannon, asking her, fuck, begging her to keep the baby was the right thing to do. So we came to an arrangement. I met all her expenses and when Stevie was born she was handed straight to me. She’s been with me ever since. It’s not that Shannon didn’t want her exactly, it’s that she just wasn’t ready, not then and still not now. Shannon sees her from time to time, Stevie knows who her mom is, but she’s just not overly important. Rachel and Jennifer are more important to her.”

“What are you trying to tell me, Christian?”

“I made the best family I could for Stevie, Steve. I was the best daddy I could be, even though more than once I rang Momma in tears telling her I couldn’t do this, not alone, not by myself. Now, I am a good daddy, and I love my daughter, but I still don’t want to do this alone. I made you a part of our lives, Steve, because I needed you there, anyway I could have that. It’s not enough any more. Can we…I need this, please, Steve, I need you.”

I know he doesn’t take forever to speak, it just feels like it.

“Was that so hard?”

There’s only one answer I can give.

“Yes. I was kind of hoping if we ever got to this point we’d be face to face.”

“Chris, I tried to do this face to face, more times than I can ever hope to remember. It never worked. This way, it’s done, been said and now we can move on, right?”

“Yeah, we can.”

And maybe for once we’ll be moving in the same direction at the same time.

“So I take it the great Christian Kane is hitting L.A.?”

“Can you…could you not call me that, please? Of all people you know I’m not the great anything. But yeah, we’ll arrive tomorrow, and I have the day after that off, then there’s three shows at The Hollywood Bowl.”

“Sweet.”

“Umm, yeah, they should be good, but that’s not what I’m kind of focused on right now.”

“What are you focused on, Chris?”

There’s no denying the laughter in his voice.

“I mentioned dates, didn’t I? I’d like to take you out tomorrow night, if you’re, you know, free. Brandon and Rachel are travelling with me right now, and they can look after Stevie for the night, or a few hours, because I’m not suggesting I’ll be gone all night. Fuck, Steve, stop me please.”

I haven’t rambled like this in years.

“Keep going, Chris.”

Taking a deep breath helps me steady my voice if not my heart.

“Thursday, if tomorrow night doesn’t blow everything to kingdom come, maybe you’d like to spend the day with me and Stevie?”

Say something, Steve, because silence through a phone line is not my friend right now.

“I’m back in the studio right now, so tomorrow night’s not a problem. And I think I can take a day off. Any chance I can score a back stage pass to your shows as well?”

“Yes?”

Yes, you’ll come out with me, me and my daughter? Yes, of course I want you there? Just plain yes.

Steve’s voice is so gentle when he speaks next.

“You okay, Chris?”

“No.”

At least it’s not a question this time.

“What’s wrong?”

“I panic when things go right, Steve.”

“You always did. How about just this once you try not doing that and just talk to me. Tell me more about Stevie, tell me how the tour’s going. Tell me something ordinary, extraordinary, I don’t care.”

Steve had another question about Stevie earlier, I can answer that one.

“People that don’t know any better think Stevie is Brandon’s. We kind of decided early in the game when things really took off, if she had to be in public it would be with Brandon. It was our way of shielding her.”

Because while Brandon deserves to have the success I’ve been blessed with, he hasn’t. He’d be upset about it, if he actually cared one way or the other. He writes his songs, sings them sometimes, let’s other people borrow them others, but he’s happy working for me and getting to do what he wants with his music. Family and freedom are what count to Brandon.

“Then if she was seen with me, I was just the dotting uncle. Nobody is invited to my place, which as you noticed isn’t easy to find, unless I trust them implicitly. I will not fuck around with my daughter’s safety. The band and my co-stars know the truth, but they’re just as protective of Stevie as I am. Of course having said all of that, I doubt it’s gonna fly much longer, you’ve met her, backward in coming forward she ain’t. But she’s in school now and how the world finds out she’s mine and not Brandon’s will be on my terms.”

“You know there’s a few people out here that want to meet her, and slap you, like yesterday, right?”

“Yeah, I know. But maybe at the shows. I don’t want to share my day off with anybody but you two.”

I want that to be the start of something, and I want to begin as I mean to continue.

“I get that and our friends can wait…but Mom and Dad…they’ve missed you, Chris.”

“And they want to meet the baby girl?”

Because never for a second would I think Steve hasn’t told them. That would be like me keeping a secret from Momma, which is something that’d never happen.

“Meet, kidnap, smother or spoil. It’s all the same thing, right?”

“When it comes to grandparents, yeah, apparently.”

It’s only when Steve whispers my name that I realise what I’ve said. Instantaneously I also realise that that’s what I want them to be.

“That’s how it works, isn’t it, Steve? If you, me and Stevie are working towards the family thing, Sandy and Chris are grandparents, yeah?”

Say something, Steve. For the love of god, say something.

“I love you.”

If you’d have asked me, that would have been stone cold last on a list of ‘what might come out of Steve’s mouth next’ list. I’m still dumb struck and he starts talking again.

“I won’t tell you that again, not until it’s time, but right now, you need to know I’m still in love with you.”

“Steve-“

“No, Chris, don’t. That wasn’t a statement that requires an answer that ends in the word ‘too’. Just…tell me about the last show you played. Where was it, and how did it go?”

So that’s what I do. For the next three hours I tell him about the tour and he tells me about his album. I find out that Riley’s known about Stevie for a while and not said shit to anybody. 

Apparently Riley grew up while I was away.

Hesitantly, I tell Steve that Dave’s known about Stevie since before she was born. I also tell him I’m fairly sure that she’s going to marry Jaden which gets me a laugh around the hurt I still know is there.

Finally, plans are made for the following night. Steve’s making the reservation and I’m picking him up.

By the time I hang up, I feel better about *my* life, the part I don’t share with my daughter, than I have in years.

But when Steve’s smoke-roughened voice is no longer in my ear, and I’ve watched Stevie sleep for as long as I can justify, that’s when regret creeps in. Totally uninvited and completely unwanted. I know I’ve fucked up, I know I’ve hurt Steve enough that letting me back into his life is the last thing he should do. And I know I can’t do a thing to change any of that.

What I can do is to never do any of that ever again.

Stripping to my boxers, and pulling on an old threadbare pair of sweats, I climb into my bed and stare at the roof. I won’t be sleeping tonight and, for once, that’s okay.

~Chris’ POV~

“Daddy?”

The razor’s mid-stroke when I let my eyes drift from my face downwards. In the mirror I can see her, hands on her hips and, fuck me, she’s actually tapping her foot.

Rachel doesn’t do that. Jenny doesn’t do that. So where on God’s green earth would she pick it up from?

“Stevie?”

Like I don’t know what’s coming next.

“Why can’t I come with you tonight, Daddy?”

Yep, that’s what was coming next alright. Because, you know, we’ve only had this conversation five times in the last four hours.

“Go sit on my bed while I finish shaving, baby. Can you do that, please?”

And I’ll use the two minutes that’ll buy me to…yeah, fucked if I know, because I’m pretty much out of ways to explain this without actually over explaining it. I learnt very early on when it comes to kids, giving them too much information will bite you in the ass. Usually over the Sunday dinner table after church with every relative you have there to witness it.

Two minutes later, pretty much to the second, Stevie huffs out ‘Daddy’ as I wipe the last of the shaving cream from my face.

When I walk out of the bathroom, Stevie’s laid two more shirts out next to the blue one I’d already planned on wearing. Her favourite purple one, and a lemon one I’m almost positive is Brandon’s.

Yes, I’m wearing my jeans already. Because another thing I learnt the hard way is once your baby can walk and escape her crib, do not do anything naked unless you have too.

Sitting down beside the shirts, I pull Stevie onto my lap, hugging her hard and kissing her temple.

Let’s try a different plan of attack.

“Okay, Stevie girl, normally you love staying with Uncle Brandon and Aunt Rachel, what’s different about tonight?”

If I go out, without Stevie, it’s usually with friends, not a date. God, even the tabloids only ever comment on my lack of dating. Which isn’t to say I haven’t dated, or I’ve been a monk. I’ve just been careful, and kind of picky, or if you ask Brandon, pickier than the Catholic Church trying to canonise someone.

“You smell nice.”

“That’s nice to know, baby, but please tell me what’s wrong?”

“Are we getting a mommy?”

Hello?

“Baby girl, you have a mom, remember?”

“But you never smell this nice to go out with Uncle Dave! And Suzie from school says her mommy smells nice when she goes dating for a daddy for Suzie. And Suzie never gets to go dating with her mommy. So are you going dating for a new mommy and why can’t I come?”

Her voice is getting higher in pitch with every word and she’s almost crying by the time she’s done. 

Who the fuck is Suzie? Because her mom needs smacking. Why did Stevie have to go to school again?

“Okay, sugar, settle down, no tears please. You know tears upset Daddy.”

As in I normally end up crying with her. But sitting there rocking my baby while she breathes in shudders that rock her body, I know I have to tell her something. And she’s that smart that once I tell her there’s no going back.

Please God, let this be the right thing to do. Because if Steve and I don’t work this out I’ll never survive Stevie’s heartbreak as well as my own.

“Baby, I meant what I said, you already have a mom in Shannon and nobody will ever replace her. Not Aunt Jenny, or Aunt Rachel or even Memma. We’re not getting another mommy, okay?”

“B-but you smell n-nice.”

“I never said I wasn’t going out on a date, baby. Before I had you, I had somebody else I loved very much.”

“Another little girl?”

Well that confirms I’m doing a fucking awful job of explaining this.

“No, Stevie, god, no. You’re the only little girl I’ve ever had and I wouldn’t trade you for anything. Before I had you though, the person I loved very much was Steve.”

“Steve can’t be a mommy.”

Now there’s something I think both of us are grateful for.

“No, sugar, he can’t be a mommy, but he can be your very own Steve.”

“Are you going to be dating Steve? Is he going to stay over and sleep in your bed like Uncle Brandon and Aunt Rachel sleep?”

This would be why I didn’t want to bring this up just yet. The kid is too fucking smart and she’ll have Steve and I married before I ever get out the door tonight. But she’s lifting her heard from my chest and the eyes watching me are nothing but innocent and they deserve an honest answer from the man they trust most.

“Yes, I’m going to be dating Steve, and someday, yes, he might sleep over and share my bed. Would that be okay with you?”

“Can I still climb into your bed with you and watch Saturday morning cartoons?”

“If you remember the rules.”

“Knock and wait to be asked in, I know.”

The little darling actually rolled her eyes as she said that. We might have gone over that one or two hundred time.

“Daddy?"

“Stevie?”

“I like Steve.”

Wait until you get to know him, baby, I’m hoping you’ll learn to love him.

“Me too, baby, me too.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Stevie?”

“If you’re going dating with Steve, and I’ve already met Steve, why can’t I come?”

Like I said, way too fucking smart.

“Because sometimes dating is just a Daddy and Steve thing, and sometimes it’ll be a Daddy, Steve and Stevie thing. There could even be Steve and Stevie dates. Tonight is big people only time. Tomorrow though, you get to spend the whole day with Steve and me, is that good?”

“All day?”

“I promise, baby, all day.”

“Okay, you can go dating tonight without me.”

That’s my daughter.

“Thank you. Now how about you go see what Aunt Rachel is doing while I finish getting ready?”

“Okay.”

I get a loud kiss and a tight hug before she climbs off my knee and heads toward the connecting door between our room and Brandon and Rach’s. Suites don’t come with connecting doors, and Eric knows we need them so he always books us the two biggest rooms with them that he can find.

Before she goes to interrupt Brandon and Rachel though, she turns back to look at me.

“Daddy?”

“Stevie?”

Yes, this is a game we can play for hours, much to my Momma’s disgust. 

“Wear the purple shirt, it’s my favourite.”

Then she’s gone.

Ten minutes later the purple shirt is on, and my hair is done the best it can be considering the conversation with Stevie happened before I could even run a comb through it while it was still wet. I’m running late and Brandon’s sitting on my bed when I walk out of the bathroom again.

Colour me not surprised.

“I’m running late and I still have to say goodnight to Stevie, so just give it to me, Brand.”

“You’re that sure about Steve?”

Of course Stevie told them.

“No, I’m not. Because if I was that sure I’d be taking everything for granted again and I’ve already been there and bought the t-shirt.”

“Christian, you haven’t dated since Stevie was born!”

“Bullshit.”

“You fool, sneaking out after your daughter is asleep with some blonde to get laid is not dating – even if you do buy them dinner before hand.”

“Brandon, it’s Steve.”

“Which is pretty much my point exactly, Christian. I took Stevie for two days while you drank yourself stupid when he called to let you know he was getting married. I held you when you broke down after finding out about rehab, both times. I’m worried that Stevie won’t be enough to pull you through if this doesn’t work out this time.”

“I am too, Brandon.”

“So why tell her, Christian?”

“Because I can’t, won’t lie to her, and because I need her to be a part of this. If I kept it all separate it wouldn’t be the right thing to do by either of them. I need this to be as normal as it can, and Stevie needs to see me holding Steve’s hand, kissing him. I want her to know he’s important, Brand, because he is.”

“And if it doesn’t work out?”

My head just shakes a silent ‘no’.

“I can’t accept that as a possibility, Brandon, not this time.”

“Okay, fair enough. But I get to tell him he’s gonna fuck it up, if that’s what it looks like he’s doing.”

“As long as you can do the same if I’m the one making the mess.”

“I can.”

“Good.”

Standing up, Brandon pulls me into a fairly typical Kane hug. Strong arms and little room for breathing.

“Stevie’s right, you do smell good.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh, I’m going. And I’m taking my shirt with me.”

I knew the lemon one was his.

~*~

~Steve’s POV~

He’s late.

Okay, it’s only five minutes, but yeah, he’s late.

And now my cell is ringing. I don’t even bother looking at the caller ID as I answer it.

“Yeah?”

“I know I’m running late, and I’m still about ten minutes away. It just took me longer to untangle myself from Stevie than I thought it would. Have I fucked up the dinner reservations?”

Turning from the window I wasn’t staring out, I look at the perfectly laid table, complete with church pillar candles and a couple of flowers in a vase off to one side.

“Nah, I think they’ll hold them for us. If Stevie’s not good or upset or something you could have cancelled, Chris, I would have understood.”

Been disappointed, sure, but I would have been okay.

“It’s not like that, Steve, she’s fine. She’s just…do I really have to do this over the phone?

I’ll bet Stevie whines just like her daddy sometimes.

“The last phone conversation we had went okay, and you do have ten minutes to kill.”

I can’t help smiling when I hear him take the slightly martyred breath in.

“She wanted to come with me, and then thought I was dating for a mommy, because I smelled nice. So all of that lead to me explaining that I wasn’t looking for a mommy, not when there’s a Steve. She wanted to know if we were dating and if there’d be sleepovers and if there was, could she still watch Saturday morning cartoons in my bed. I also got told to wear the purple shirt.”

My only response to all of that is laughter. I can’t help it.

“Yeah, thanks for that, Carlson.”

“Because daddy said so doesn’t work, huh?”

“Yeah, no. That didn’t work when she was three, let alone now that she’s started school. Apparently Suzie’s mommy goes bar hopping for new daddies.”

“Your seven year old told you that?”

“Not exactly. But Suzie’s mom smells nice when she goes out dating for a new daddy.”

“Who’s Suzie?”

“I have no fucking idea, but remind me to never let Stevie sleep over at her house, okay?”

I have to wonder how many times Momma Kane has called him cute when he’s all wrapped up in Poppa Bear mode.

“Okay, I can do that. But you know what? That’s not what’s important here.”

“It’s not?”

“Nope, the big question is, how nice do you really smell?”

“I just pulled up, so why don’t you open the front door and find out?”

The asshole just hung up on me! But I guess I’ll forgive him since I was turning my phone off anyway, and it gets dumped onto a side table in the hall as I walk past.

When I open the door he’s just standing there, looking pretty much like a wet dream I had once. Once being last night.

Both of us are smiling like we’ve been struck stupid.

“I like the lavender.”

“It’s purple and Stevie’s favourite.”

“There’s no need to get defensive, I said I liked it.”

“You also called it lavender.”

As he speaks, he’s slowly taking steps towards me.

“Can I?”

“If you don’t, I will. How else am I going to know how good you smell?”

“C’mere.”

Chris isn’t that much bigger than me, but he always seems to engulf me, and that’s exactly what he’s doing right now. One arm is wrapped around my waist, the other around my shoulder and his face pressed into my neck. My body pretty much mirrors his and I have to say, the fact he smells amazing has very little to do with his cologne, and I feel like I’m breathing him down into my toes.

It takes a long time for either of us to let go and when we do, the first thing Chris does is reach for my hand.” 

“I…you…fuck. I’ve missed you, Steve.”

Now is not the time to point out the fact he didn’t have to.

“That’s entirely mutual, Chris.”

“Do we have to get going? I mean we’re already late, and I have no idea how far we’re going.”

He’s nervous. He always rambles when he’s nervous and the fact that being a big superstar hasn’t changed him makes me something beyond happy.

“Just come inside and let me shut the front door. I can promise we’re not going far, and my kitchen is okay with you being a little late.”

The door’s shut and we’re half-way down the hall before the penny drops.

“You cooked?”

Nodding, I lead him out onto what was once a back porch but is now a plant-filled atrium. It is also the main reason I bought this place.

Pointing to the table, I just smile at him.

“Sit, Chris, everything is ready to be served.”

“You sure this is a good idea?”

“Chris, what I’m sure about is I wasn’t going to share you tonight, with anybody, and that’s what would have happened if we’d gone out. So sit, Kane”

Of course, he doesn’t.

“Steve I kind of didn’t want to jump in at the deep end.”

“You don’t think we already have? Neither of us knows how to do things half heartedly, and I don’t want too. I’m going to give this, you, Stevie, all I’ve got. Tell me I’m alone in feeling like that, I dare you.”

Softly he repeats what he’d already told me on the phone. But there’s so much more in his voice when he says it this time.

“I told Stevie I was dating you, and there would be sleepovers, with you in my bed.”

Right there, that’s my answer, my reassurance and damn near my benediction. It’s all I need, and a hell of a lot more than I actually expected tonight.

“Christian, baby, just sit down and let’s eat. I’m not going to send you back to Stevie smelling like sex, but if tonight ends up with a little making out, I won’t complain.”

This time he sits.

After our last dinner, the one in Tennessee, and this one being without the endless one- sided conversation of Stevie, I’ll admit to being kind of wound up about how this would all go. But five minutes into the starter, I realise there is nothing to worry about. This is Chris, my Chris. He doesn’t bat an eyelid when the wine glasses are filled with sparkling apple juice, and just grins when I light the candles. He tells me the calamari is incredible and can’t quite verbalise how good the beef is. But I’ve heard those sounds he was making before, and they leave me in no doubt that he liked it.

We talk about nothing and everything all at once and before either of us realises it, almost three hours have passed.

“You want dessert yet?”

I can’t help laughing when Chris’ eyes damn near bug out of his head.

“You’re joking right? I have to be able to move enough to drive back to the hotel you know.”

Lowering my gaze to his stomach before coming back to his face, Chris is smiling when I raise an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t get to the gym like I used.”

Could have fooled me.

“So? I’m guessing the body you’ve got under that not-lavender shirt that’s come from two careers and chasing Stevie everywhere is just as good.”

“You said you weren’t going to send me home to Stevie all wound up.”

Now it’s my turn to smile. “I also said there would be making out, and if you think I’m keeping my hands to myself while that’s going on, you’re insane. You really should learn to pay attention to everything I’m saying, Christian.”

“I was concentrating on your mouth, Steve, not the words that were coming out of it.

No sex, no fucking, there will not even be any coming tonight. At least, not until Chris has gone back to the hotel. And maybe if tell I myself that often enough in the next ten minutes my cock will actually start to listen.

“Steve?”

It’s so not working.

“Dessert is only peanut butter and potato chip cookies and coffee, Christian, I think you’ll survive.”

“You remember my favourite cookies?”

Why does he sound so…utterly amazed?

“Chris, I remember what brand of toothpaste you prefer, remembering some of your favourite foods isn’t much in the grand scheme of everything.”

Not to mention a little less, well, stalkerish.

For the next two minutes, which feel like two hours, neither of us says a word. Because, really, what the fuck can you say to something like that?

Eventually, maybe finally, Chris reaches across the table covering my fingers with the palm of his hand.

“Do you have somewhere out here we can sit and talk, or can we head inside to a sofa? I’d really like to just talk to you, and be comfortable and be able to touch you while that happens.”

He’s right, this table isn’t going to allow either of us what we want. I don’t let go of his hand as I push my chair back and stand up. A quick tug brings Chris to his feet as well.

“Follow me.”

If we were heading back the way we came in, I’d let Chris lead the way, but it’s me in front as we head back inside the main house and almost immediately to the left. Sure I have a formal lounge but the only person that even remembers that room is there is my manager. The room I’m taking Chris to is about as formal as Chucks and torn blue jeans. 

As soon as we go down the three steps that lead into the sunken room, Chris speaks.

“Okay, now I know where you live.”

Chris is right, about the only thing I don’t do in this room is record. I can usually be found in here, the atrium or the kitchen.

Pointing towards the over stuffed two-seater, I step back and reluctantly let go of Chris’ hand.

“Sit down, Christian. I’ll go get the coffee and cookies.”

I’m only gone maybe five minutes, but by the time I get back, Chris has turned the stereo on, and managed to find possibly the sultriest piece of music I’ve ever written. Jen once described it as dancing naked on a balcony in the French Quarter of New Orleans at midnight on the fourth of July. Jared’s called it all kinds of things, but the word ‘fuck’ in some manifestation is always involved.

If I’d gone with any variation of either of their suggestions I doubt the soundtrack the song was part of would have won me an Emmy.

It’s simply called ‘Dark Heat’.

By the time my suddenly unsteady hands have put the food and drink on the table, Chris has pushed himself back up to standing.

“I…”

Chris is trying to find the words to say something. Walking over to him, I take both his hands in mine.

I can wait for whatever he’s trying to say, but I want to be touching him while I do.

He only leaves me hanging for a minute or two.

“You’re better than me at the whole musical performing thing. You always were. I still stutter and stumble my way through every interview, and that’s something you never do.”

“Chris-“

Moving closer, he kisses me to stop me from saying whatever it was I was going to come out with.

“I’m not asking you to tell me I’m the second coming, I’m trying to tell you that’s what I think you are. The albums you’ve recorded, the songs you’ve written…you’ve given your soul the most perfect voice in those works. But the soundtracks you’ve done…I know you probably started out writing things for Jen’s series as a bit of fun and as a favour, but it’s so much more than that now. You’re the primetime Emmy winner out of all of us.”

“Creative Emmy, Chris.”

“In your own words, so? It’s still a fucking Emmy, Steve. And Steve Carlson isn’t just Jensen Ackles friend anymore, or that guy that once played in a band with the redneck from ‘Angel’. He’s an amazing talent whose music you buy because it makes you feel. And he’s the guy directors want on board, writing that perfect music for their crucial scene because he can take the incredible and make it perfect, giving you what you didn’t even realise you were missing in the first place.”

Right there is why Christian confuses people if they’re not paying attention. Everybody thinks he should be a man of few words, and he can be, don’t get me wrong, but because he has trouble saying the simple words that everybody else can say at the drop of a hat, they think he’s saying nothing at all.

And I forgot that. How could I have forgotten that?

“Whatever you’re beating yourself up about, Steve, stop it.”

“But I-“

“Yeah, but nothing. For every mistake you make I probably made two. Are you going to hold that against me?”

Even with my selective memory I don’t think it was anywhere near that bad, Chris. It was just that you always made the kind of mistake that everybody took notice of.

“No, Christian, I’m not.”

I’ve just never heard you tell me you’re proud of me before and I’m kicking myself for what else I might have been missing through my own ignorance.

“You’re doing it again, Carlson.”

“Yeah, I am.”

Then something else occurs to me.

“How soon do you have to leave?”

Chris steps closer, his body almost pressed against mine, his fingers starting to move over the ridges of my spine in time with the slide of my fingertips down the steel of the guitar strings in the music that surrounds us.

“Probably too soon.”

God, I wish we were naked in New Orleans at midnight.

One day.

“I’ve realised if I sit down with you on that sofa, I’m not getting up again until I’ve had my fill of you, and that’s something that’ll just never happen.”

“I thought you wanted to talk.”

I shouldn’t be looking like the Cheshire Cat, but I am. We’ve done plenty of talking tonight, right now is for touching.

“We can talk tomorrow. I need to feel you against me, and the only way I can think to do that that’ll help us keep our clothes and leave me with the ability to walk out of here tonight is to dance with you.”

Dance? Christian?

Me?

“I’m not two-stepping with you, Kane.”

“What’s playing wasn’t written with two-stepping in mind.”

Chris has put ‘Heat’ on a loop repeat program,

“But dancing, Christian?”

Somehow, and fuck knows how, he gets closer still without being where we both want him to be. Hard against me. And I do mean hard.

“If you’ve got a better idea, let’s hear it. But I figure our kind of dancing involves our bodies and our mouths melded together, our hands where ever they want to be, and the music soft enough that it would drown out those choking little mewls you always make.”

That’s when he takes away any remaining space between us, and the pressure of those fingers along my spine increases. I don’t realise I’ve closed my eyes and offered up my throat until the sensation of Chris’ mouth at the tendon there is added into the mix.

Fuck, yes, I can do this kind of dancing, and I’m twisting handfuls of Chris’ hair around my hands as I hold on and start to rock with him.

Somehow we’re in time with the music, I’m just not sure it’s the music coming through the speakers.

There are teeth at my jaw when I drag Chris’ mouth up to mine. I meant to kiss him, really I did, but his mouth is right there and I couldn’t stop myself from biting at his lower lip even if I wanted too.

I don’t want to.

Chris’ bottom lip is already swelling when I suck it into my mouth. When I finally release it, it’s not because of any pain. Trust me, those aren’t whimpers of pain coming from Chris. I let go because I have to have some part of him in me.

Now.

And having Chris slide his tongue over mine is nothing short of heaven.

The kiss goes on, mouths move to cheeks, jaws, necks, but they always come back to each other.

My hands are still in Chris’ hair, his are still playing my spine, and while you would think our hips would be rutting against each other, they aren’t. Yes, we’re both hard, and neither of us is hiding it, but together we keep up an almost sway: Chris moving forward as I go back, me pressing into him as he lets me.

This dancing is going to fucking kill me.

“Chris.”

I don’t have anything I want to say, I just wanted to hear his name from my mouth.

Five minutes, five hours, later, Chris whispers ‘Steve’ for what I’m guessing is the same reason.

When Chris eventually steps back just enough, I know it’s not because he wants to. Just like I know things could go further tonight, but it’d be hurried, regretted and, not so much wrong, as just not right.

“You have to leave.”

Leave is the wrong word, though, right now. I can’t think of what the right one would be.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

Reaching out, running my finger over that blood-filled lower lip, I’m slowly shaking my head.

“Don’t be, babe. Tonight has been amazing, every second of it. I’m just sorry we didn’t get to dessert.”

“What I got was even better than your cookies, Steve.”

It’s what we both got, Christian, not just you.

“They’ll still be here tomorrow.”

Just like you’ll be, along with your beautiful daughter.

Chris steals one last kiss before putting some real distance between us.

“Walk me to the door, Steve.”

Taking his hand in mine, that’s exactly what I do

“What’s happening tomorrow, Chris?”

His answering laugh is still a little blown with what we left behind in the den.

“I have no idea. I just know Stevie will be bouncing on my bed at six tomorrow…this morning, asking if it’s time to go see you yet, so I hope you don’t mind visitors for breakfast.

I think I still remember how to make biscuits.

“The sooner you’re both back here the better as far as I’m concerned.”

We’re at the front door.

“I could bring the food with me if you’d rather?”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Kane.”

The smile on his face tells me he really didn’t want to anyway.

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

“So, we’ll decide what the three of us are going to do when we get here, is that okay with you?”

“More than.”

I don’t care if I sit here and feed you both all day.

“I…thank you for tonight. I mean, not just tonight, but for-“

Kissing him stops the rambling and feels good into the bargain.

“Goodnight, Christian.”

I’m expecting another kiss, but instead I get pulled into another hug that almost mirrors the one that started tonight, except that this one is harder and somehow a whole lot more intimate.

And as good as Chris smelled then, he smells a whole lot better now.

It’s him that let’s go first, because now he *really* has to leave.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Standing there in the warm summer night air, I don’t move until Chris and his rental have left my sight.

But he doesn’t leave my thoughts, not for a second. Not even when I sleep.

~*~

~Chris’ POV~

“Daddy?”

Oh god, is the sun up already?

When Stevie was little, before she could tell the time, we had a rule. No climbing out of bed and waking me while it was still dark. She has no problems telling the time now, but she still lives by the sun rule.

“Daddy?”

“Give me a minute, baby.”

Or another hour. I only got home from Steve’s four hours ago, I spent half an hour in the shower trying to calm down enough to sleep and jerking off when that didn’t work, so, that means I’ve had all of about three hours sleep.

I actually don’t think I can open my eyes.

“Daddy?”

I’m also fairly sure I don’t have a choice.

“Morning, Stevie girl.”

“Hi, Daddy.”

At least she no longer perches on my chest to wake me up.

Rolling over, I grab at her and pull her in my arms, cuddling her down on top of me as I blow a raspberry against her neck.

“When you’re sixteen and dying to sleep in, you know I’m going to wake you up, don’t you?”

“You’re silly, Daddy.”

Yep, I probably am, but for the first time in a very long time I’m happy as well so I don’t mind the whole silly thing.

“Why are you up, baby?”

“Is it time to go dating with Steve yet?”

Oh I shouldn’t, I really shouldn’t…but I’m going to.

“Pass me my phone, baby.”

As soon as she’s off the bed my eyes are closing again. Fuck, if I don’t get some sleep tonight I’m never going to survive the next three days.

“Here you go, Daddy.”

Okay, opening my eyes again as I scroll through the names until I find Steve. Pushing the button I almost give the phone back to Stevie before I realise that Steve may answer this thinking it’s me.

“The fuck, Christian?”

Yeah, I was right.

“Somebody wants to talk to you.”

Without another word I had the phone over to Stevie and shut my eyes again. 

“Hi, Steve.”

I have no intention of falling back to sleep, but laying here listening to Stevie talk to Steve is a special kind of peace.

“Daddy’s asleep.”

“No, I’m not.”

At least not completely.

I know some people think I can carry a tune, but the sound of my daughter laughing is sweeter music than I’ll ever make.

“Daddy’s smiling in his sleep, Steve.”

“I told you, baby, I’m not asleep.”

“Steve says you snore when you sleep as well, loud like a chainsaw.”

He’d know I guess.

“Don’t you have something you wanted to ask Steve, baby?” 

“Steve, can Daddy and I come dating now?”

I have no idea what Steve’s response is, but god knows I’m laughing way too loud. Kid’s know how to get straight to the point if nothing else.

I also must have missed something, because my phone gets dropped on my chest as Stevie bounces off of my bed. 

“Steve wants to talk to you, Daddy, I have to get dressed.”

Oh fuck. Picking the phone up from where Stevie dropped it, it takes me two shots to work out which way I’m meant to be holding it.

“You weren’t meant to say yes, Carlson.”

“It’s the ass crack of dawn, Kane.”

“I know, which is another reason you weren’t meant to say yes!”

“The little lady wants to come dating, Chris. And besides, if you could say no to her, she wouldn’t have been on the phone to me in the first place.”

He just might have a point there.

“You know I have to get out of bed and come over to your place now, don’t you? There will be no more sleeping.”

“I’m cooking chocolate chip pancakes.”

That would be part of the conversation I missed.

“We’ll be there in an hour or so, Steve.”

“I’ll be waiting, Chris.”

Stevie’s back and poking at my feet.

“Daddy, get out of bed, you’ve got to do my hair.”

“I have to go play hairdresser now, Steve, so there had better be coffee as well as pancakes when we get to your place.”

“You do hair?”

“I’m going now, Steve.”

The prick is laughing when I hang up on him.

“Daddy!”

What a way to start the day.

~*~

When I was sixteen my perfect date was down by the river, in the back of my old flat-bed Ford with my hand up some girl’s skirt. By the time I’d turned twenty dinner was involved. There’d be wine and candlelight and I’d still want to get my hand on some part of my date’s anatomy that wasn’t normally exposed to daylight.

At thirty there was Steve, and we didn’t do dating. I don’t think either of us ever worked out exactly what it was we were doing, but I don’t think you could call it dating by any stretch of the imagination. Though god knows there was touching. There was also kissing, biting, rimming, blowing, fucking, arguing, fighting. Up, down, god we went around and around. I knew my perfect…not date but my perfect time spent involved Steve, it was just the how that got ten levels of confused.

The last seven years have been ‘what dating?’ As much as I don’t want to admit it, Brandon’s right, it’s been about getting off and getting off as quickly as possible, because from time to time my right hand got boring. The idea of meeting somebody to make a family with just never occurred to me.

Now, here I am, forty-one and I’ve finally had my perfect day, my perfect date. There’s been the odd stolen kiss, but that’d barely rate in the top ten of what today has given me. Because now I have the image of Steve standing behind Stevie, helping her flip our pancakes for breakfast in my head.

Nobody can ever take the memory of the three of us lying on the floor in Steve’s den playing Candy Land from me, or the soundtrack of Steve’s laughter and Stevie’s giggles that goes with that. 

Of course, Steve’s never going to live down the fact that he went out and bought that game on the chance Stevie may like it. Mostly because he’s never going to let me live down the fact I can actually complete a halfway decent French braid.

But the best part of all of this has actually been that I’m not the only one that owns these memories. Steve has his version, and Stevie has hers. They’ll always have them.

I don’t deserve to be this lucky, but I’m not going looking for somebody to tell that too.

“Chris? What’re you doing out here?”

I kind of wandered out into Steve’s atrium a few minutes ago, I don’t know why.

“I…don’t know.”

“I thought we could order a movie after dinner, I know you kind of have to have an early night tonight, but if you have to go now-”

“Will you please stop talking for a minute and come here?”

At some point during the years we were apart I forgot how good Steve fits against me, but it didn’t take me, and my body, long to remember it again.

“Yes, I have to get some sleep tonight, and that’ll mean we have to leave soon, but a movie sounds good. We’re watching some Disney mess, aren’t we?”

Laying his head on my shoulder, Steve nods a little.

“I left Stevie checking out what we could order on pay per view. Do I want to know how many times you’ve seen the latest movie about the talking pumpkin?”

“Six. You’re lucky I didn’t off myself when I found myself singing the theme song in the shower last week.”

“Yeah, I am lucky.”

Something else has to be said.

“Thank you for today, Steve.”

Lifting his head from shoulder, Steve is looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Chris? What the hell are you thanking me for?” 

Where would you like me to start?

“You got woken up after no sleep, made chocolate chip pancakes, played Candy Land…you listen when Stevie talks…you listen when I talk.”

“You got the same amount of sleep as I did, you ate Stevie’s first pancake when it was still runny inside. You didn’t laugh at me, much, when it came to the game, and as for the listening…babe, it’s you and Stevie. That’s the only answer I have, it’s you and Stevie.”

“I don’t deserve this.”

“What? Can you tell me exactly what it is that you don’t deserve?”

Probably not.

“This. You understanding about Stevie, days like today. I don’t know, just this.”

Steve just lays his head back on my shoulder and wraps his arms around my waist.

“I’ve told you what I want, for us, the three of us, I’m not going to tell you again. But what I am going to do is tell you I deserve this, and Stevie deserves this and if both of us deserve it, you get it whether you want it or not. Fair enough?”

Kissing his temple I let him feel my smile.

“Fair enough.”

“Good, now c’mon, there’s pizza arriving any minute and dancing pumpkins waiting for us.”

“I don’t deserve that.”

“Nobody ever does, Chris, nobody ever does.”

~*~

Stevie’s in my arms as we walk out to the car, fighting like hell not to fall asleep before we say goodnight to Steve. It’s barely nine, but when you’re seven and your day started at dawn and you’ve barely stopped since then you’re entitled to be tired. Hell, who I am kidding, I’m exhausted.

Stopping beside the door, I turn to Steve, who bends just enough to kiss Stevie’s cheek.

“I had fun today, Steve. I like dating.”

Enjoy it while you can, baby, because you won’t be doing any dating by yourself until you’re at least thirty. If I can’t talk you into a nunnery that is.

The look on Steve’s face tells me he knows what I’m thinking.

“I had a wonderful day as well, little lady.”

Reaching her hand out, Stevie pats Steve’s face, and he turns just enough to kiss her palm.

“You have to take Daddy home now though, Stevie, he’s tired. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise, Stevie Kane, I promise.”

That satisfies her enough that I can get her into the car and buckled in.

My turn to say goodnight now. I get as far as opening my mouth before Steve is kissing me, so gently, moving his lips against mine, but that’s all.

He’s smiling when I pulls back.

“I like dating too.”

“That’s a good thing since you have another one with Stevie tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait.”

He means it, completely and utterly.

“See you tomorrow?”

“You’re leaving at ten, yeah?”

When I nod, Steve keeps talking.

“So I’ll be there before then. But you’d better get going, Chris. Stevie needs sleep, you need sleep, fuck it, I need to sleep.”

It’s my turn to kiss him this time.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, babe.”

As I pull away, I glance into the rear view mirror, I see Steve still standing there, just like he was last night.

“Daddy?”

“I thought you were asleep, baby.”

I’m still not convinced she isn’t, Kane stubbornness is something Stevie has in spades. 

“I like Steve, Daddy. It’s good that you like him too.”

By the time I find my voice enough to answer her, a quick glance tells me that now she is actually asleep.

The answer comes anyway.

“Thank you, baby. I needed that.”

~*~

~Steve’s POV

The last three days have been incredible, fantastic, over way too quickly and as of half an hour ago sliding into the realm of surreal.

The fantastic and incredible part began after I tried going back into the studio the day after my date with Chris and Stevie. Somehow I lasted three hours before Darren pretty much frogmarched me to the door and told me to get the fuck out. The ‘sorry’ I muttered as I all but ran out the door didn’t even make it to half-hearted as far as sincerity went.

Since then I’ve kind of gone with Chris’ flow more than anything. And the results of that is I’ve ended up even more in awe of him and the amount of balls he keeps in the air.

Chris has done radio, press, meet and greets, and contestant winners without once losing the smile from his face or the thanks from his voice. Throw in sound checks and two performances and I’m beginning to wonder if Chris’ day had more hours in it than the rest of ours.

Yes, I would have been disappointed if I’d barely seen Chris, but I would have understood. I also wouldn’t have wanted for company, because Stevie’s been my constant companion. It’s been good for us, good for me, to get to know this little girl who likes beans and hates pumpkin, likes to sing along to everything and has exactly the same taste in cartoons as her father. It’s also been a break for Brandon and Rachel, who has to be the sickest pregnant woman in the history of the world. Morning sickness my ass, she’s sick all damn day long.

But like I said, I would have understood not seeing that much of Chris. The one that wouldn’t have understood was Chris. He’s gone out of his way to make sure he called me and Stevie between appointments and has been there to have dinner with both of us the last two nights before the show. 

Even if all he’s done is pick at his. Apparently eating still isn’t something Chris can do before a show.

At eight o’clock, reading to his little girl and tucking Stevie into her bunk on the bus is Chris’ number one priority. Spoilt rotten that little girl may be, but there are rules, and she knows them. Like half past eight is bedtime. While she does try to weasel her way around them, she knows she’s not winning.

Rachel’s been with her after that, or more to the point asleep on Chris’ bed just down the way, and Brandon and I have been there to watch Chris turn it on. Does he have any idea how much he’s grown as a performer in the last half dozen years? At his age most people would have found their groove and worn it in until it was eight feet deep, but not Chris. I don’t know how he’s done it, but fucking hell he’s done it. There’s not one person in the house that isn’t sitting right at his feet, begging for whatever he’s dolling out. 

Yeah, they can have their daydreams, I’ve got the man himself.

One thing I haven’t quiet worked out though is if it’s stranger to hear him singing the songs we wrote together all by himself, or hear him put so much feeling into songs I had nothing to do with. Well, nothing to do with the actual act of writing them anyway. The only conclusion I’ve been able to reach is both are equally as fucked for completely different reasons.

The slide into surreal though, that’s only been happening for the last half hour or so. Tonight has been deemed ‘If you know Christian Kane, regardless of whether or not you’ve spoken to him in the last seven years, turn up’ night.

Jared and Jensen have arrived, I can see them over there taking turns at slapping Chris upside the head. Somebody said Riley and Amy are due soon, I think, and that Dave and Jamie are running late. God himself wouldn’t have a clue when Rosenbaum will turn up.

I’d love to go over there and find our exactly what’s being said to Chris, god knows shy and Jensen part company when he’s around friends and got something to say. I’d like to be over there, but somebody else has other ideas.

Nobody can see us where we are and I’m reaching a hand around the red-headed growth glued to my side, stroking down her back.

“What’s wrong, little lady?”

“Who’s that with Daddy?”

“It’s Jensen and Jared, Stevie.”

“Who?”

Okay, no, this hadn’t occurred to me. I mean why would it? Stevie knew all about me long before I knew anything about her, but it’s obvious she has no idea who the J’s are.

Kneeling down to her height, I tuck a piece of hair that’s escaped from the braid Chris so patiently did before he left this morning behind her ear.

“The one wearing glasses like Daddy does is Jensen, and the really, really big man is Jared. They’re friends of mine, and friends of Daddy’s.”

She’s not looking overly convinced here.

“They look scary.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I mean, I’m sure from her point of view they look as frightening as all fuck as big as they are. But this is Jen and Jared and just no.

“If I promise you they aren’t and tell you they’re really looking forward to meeting you, will that help?”

“They’re mad at Daddy.”

No, my word apparently doesn’t help and this child is way too perceptive.

Please, please, *please* don’t let me fuck this explanation up.

“Stevie, I’m not going to lie to you, they are kind of mad at Daddy. Before you were born-“

“When Daddy had you.”

He always had me, even when he was too damn pig headed to realise it.

“That’s right, when Daddy had me, Jared and Jensen were…they were very good friends.”

“Like Uncle Dave.”

No, that fact David has known about Stevie all along doesn’t sting much. Only like somebody is filleting my skin from my muscle while I’m still alive.

“Yes, sweetheart, exactly like Uncle Dave.”

“Didn’t they like me?”

What the…oh Christian, I am slapping you just on principle as soon as Stevie’s out of sight. Right now though I’m taking her into my arms and holding on as tight as I dare.

“Stevie, why would you…oh baby, no. This isn’t because of you. None of this is your fault, nobody stopped being friends with your daddy because of you, please don’t think that.”

Smacking you really hard and completely not in a fun way, Christian.

Drawing back just enough, I let my hands cup her face as my thumbs pet her cheeks.

“You know what a misunderstanding is, sweetheart, right?”

Nodding as much as my hands will let her, Stevie’s trying so hard to put on her bravest face.

“That’s what happened between Daddy and Jared and Jensen, and between me and Daddy. A stupid grown ups should know better misunderstanding. But I can promise you Stevie that none of this is because of you.”

This isn’t your fault, little lady, please believe me.

One single tear gets loose as Stevie nods again.

She’s back in my arms before I can give into the temptation to cry with her.

“You’re not use to so many strangers, are you, Stevie?”

She doesn’t answer me directly, just tucks her face even further into my neck and tightens the arms around my neck.

“Okay, I know you’re allowed to sit up for tonight’s concert and we both know Daddy’s kind of got something else he has to do, so how about I promise to be your very own Steve for the night? Like Daddy has William, would that be okay?”

William is Chris’ minder cum bodyguard. I’d love to say he’s this man mountain that’s just like an over grown teddy bear, but the reality is he’s barely taller than Chris and seems to have one setting, pissed off. For whatever reason though, Chris likes him. I’m just doing my best to keep the hell out of his way.

Stevie moves back, giving me one hell of a smile.

“My very own Steve?”

“You betcha. I’ll look after you, while I let you in on all the good secrets. Like Jared over there, I know he looks huge, but I’ll bet you he’s got candy in one of his pockets and I’m sure he’ll share with you. Anybody that’ll share his candy can’t be all bad, can they?”

Chris is gonna kill me for putting Stevie on the road to a sugar high at this time of night, but fuck it, he owes me.

“No, I suppose not, but he’s really big, Steve.”

I can’t help laughing.

“Stevie, he’s enormous!”

“Even for you?”

“Yes, sweetheart, even for me.”

It’s a good thing I’m not standing when she kisses my cheek, because I would have ended up on my knees anyway.

~*~

“Uncle Dave, this is my Steve.”

The only time Stevie has left my side tonight has been to go to Chris and about two minutes ago when Dave, Jamie and Jaden arrived. Dave’s bellow of ‘where’s my girl?’ echoed through the entire back stage area and sent Stevie squealing into his arms.

Again, that didn’t hurt, not at all.

Now she’s bringing a man over to me that I’ve known for way too many years and he feels like a total stranger.

Is this how Chris felt tonight with Jen, Jared, Riley and Mike?

“Long time no see, Steve.”

Not my fault Boreanaz, and not fucking snarking at you in front of Stevie.

“It’s been a few years.”

Seven, but who’s counting?

Oh yeah, that would be me.

David bends down, putting Stevie’s feet back on the ground, trying to tuck the same strand of hair behind her ear as I did earlier tonight.

“Why don’t you go say hello to Jaden, Stevie girl.”

The smile that lights up her face tells me that Chris might just be right with the fact David and him could end up related by marriage some day.

When David’s back upright, all his attention is on me.

“That was subtle.”

The raised eyebrow that gets me is a question. What exactly the question is meant to be, or if I have to answer it correctly to win approval, is fucking beyond me. 

“Wasn’t meant to be, but, Stevie’s occupied for five minutes so now you can say whatever you wanted to say without worrying you’ll upset her.”

I can honestly say I’m sure I’ll never get over the fact David’s known about Stevie her whole fucking life. No, it’s not going to stop me from having this now, but it hurts on a scale that includes my divorce.

“I don’t have anything to say, David.”

This time his answer is a shake of his head.

“You have so much to say that you don’t know where to start. I’m not your enemy, Steve.”

“You’re also not Christian or Stevie, and don’t get the same niceties. But if something starts here, between us, it’ll upset both of them and I don’t want to do that.”

“Neither do I, Steve, but I meant it, I am not your enemy. The only enemies you and Chris have ever needed are each other, no third party required.”

There’s no fun in having to unclench your teeth before you can speak.

“This is not all my fault.”

“I swear, what I wouldn’t give to be able to bash Kane and your heads together. I never said it was all your fault, Steve, Christ, I know it’s not. While I love Chris like a brother, I’m not blind to all his many faults either. But if you’d just stop rising up like a rattle snake ready to bite first and ask questions later for just five minutes and listen to me, you’d see I’m actually trying to help here.”

Can’t hit him, mustn’t hit him, hitting Chris’ best friend would be bad.

Chris’ best friend…one more slash of pain to add to tonight. Fuck, so much for this being a night of good friends and good music. Any more of this and I’ll be begging Jensen to stop me from going and finding a good stuff drink or ten.

“I don’t need your help.”

“Forgive me, Steve, I know I’m not your favourite person right now, but yes you fucking do need my help.”

I can’t do this.

“You know what, you’re right, you’re not my favourite person and I resent the fucking hell out of you for having seven years with Chris and Stevie that I didn’t have.”

Dave looks so calm, cool and collected as he leans against a random box opposite me, but when he speaks he’s anything but.

“Do you know why I had those years? I had them because when Christian disappeared I turned up on his doorstep and stayed there until he let me in and then sat in his front room for three days until he talked to me and told me what was going on. And I kept doing it every time he shut me out, I’d turn up again and make him talk to me. When Stevie was three months old, Chris stopped answering the phone. I tried calling for a week or so, then gave up and just hauled ass to Nashville. When I walked in, Chris looked like he hadn’t slept for a week and Stevie was proving she is all Kane, right down to her lungs. All I said to him was give me the kid and go pass out.”

“So I should have what? Been you? Is that what you’re trying to tell me, is that your help?” 

“Until now, I never realised how alike you and Christian can be. And no, you shouldn’t be me, because I never wanted into Kane’s pants and I’m guessing you do. I’m just asking you to let me give you one bit of advice, Steve. Stop walking on eggshells around Chris. I mean I understand why you do it, but you can’t keep going like that, that’s not a life you can keep living, it’s not real, and you both deserve real, honest, the fighting and the making up, not the seven fucking years of silence. So promise me next time you think he needs some space or he expects you to walk out the door and keep going, get in his face, rattle his cage, don’t let him let you go. Can you do that for me?”

If the advice was from anybody else, probably. Coming from David Boreanz? I’m not sure.

When I don’t answer, Dave keeps talking.

“Okay, Steve, not for me, but when the time comes, try and do it for Chris. And for Stevie, because she adores you.”

Stevie coming back means I don’t have to answer, which is a good thing, because fucked if I know what I’m supposed to say.

“Daddy’s getting ready to go play soon, my Steve, can we go watch, please, you promised.”

Just having her there makes me smile so much easier and actually real.

“Okay then little lady, since I promised. You’ve got your ear muffs, sweetheart?”

You just know Chris made sure she has hot Barbie pink hearing protection to make sure she doesn’t go deaf, don’t you?

Stevie holds up two hands, one is for me to take, the other is holding the ear muffs I asked about.

“C’mon, my Steve, Uncle Dave, It’s almost time for Daddy.”

She’s right, and I can’t help laughing when I notice the music being piped through the speakers, even if the crowd is almost drowning it out.

Hank Jr.’s _All My Rowdy Friends_. That’s my Christian.

Dave mutters something about once a redneck, always a redneck as I take Stevie’s hand, leading her over to everybody else. She settles her headphones in place, and tucks herself against my front as we watch Chris walk out and the audience go insane.

Hi Honey, he’s home.

~*~

~Chris’ POV~

Okay, here goes nothing.

As soon as I can breathe again, which is why I’m still panting when I bring the microphone back to my mouth.

“Thank you, oh man, thank you all so much. L.A. was home for me for so long, and to come back and be greeted with this, with you guys, it makes me…humble is the only word I can think of.”

And even if I could think of another one, I still think that would be the word I wanted.

More panting, though the last song’s not the reason I can’t catch my breath.

“Tonight’s special though…apart from being my third night in this amazing place, I’ve got some old friends here, some family and somebody, well somebody I think you all might know, and while I haven’t mentioned this to him, I’m kind of thinking if I ask nice, and you guys ask nice he might come out and play a song or two with me, what do you think?”

And I didn’t think these people could get any louder, I was mistaken and oh so wrong. Turning around, I’m side on to the audience, looking into an area where I can see everybody, Steve is more hidden than anybody else and I know why.

“Is everybody up to a little Kane if I can get Steve’s ass on stage?”

Well they’re convinced, now if Steve will just…He ducks out of sight for a minute, I’ll bet to talk to Stevie, before he stands back up, grabs the guitar that one of the roadies is holding out to him and starts walking towards me.

We’re gonna do this. We’re actually gonna fucking do this!

“Ladies and Gentleman, please welcome, the one, the only, the Emmy winning, Steve Carlson!”

There’s a smile on his face as he steps into the arms I’m holding open to him.

“Not fair, Christian.”

“Stevie wants to hear you sing. I want to see you beside me, singing, even if it is just this once.”

I don’t ever want to let you go.

Stepping back, Steve puts the guitar strap over his shoulder and steps up to the microphone that has magically appeared.

You have to love roadies.

“I guess a few people remember when we used to do this, yeah?”

Looking out over the sea of people, I don’t think even one of them isn’t staying silent right now

“I guess they do, Steve, so c’mon, play something for the nice people.”

At the sound of Steve playing the opening bars of ‘Seven Days’ somehow the wave of sound coming back at us gets louder.

I know this will never come back, not permanently, but right now as I open my mouth to sing a lyric I haven’t sung in years, I’m home.

~*~

~Steve’s POV~

“You’ve got everything?”

Who I am kidding? The hotel room they originally booked into has been empty for the last three days. They’ve been living on the bus because of Chris’ insistence on putting Stevie to bed at night. He can’t be downtown and at the venue at the same time. He’s good, but he’s no Superman. Well, not to anybody that isn’t me or Stevie. 

“Yes…no. Fuck.”

At that use of that word, both of us are looking around to see where Stevie is. I can see the relief on Chris’ face when he sees her over with Rachel, a good fifteen feet away.

“So is it yes or no, Christian?”

“You sound like my mother, Steven.”

It’s kind of impossible to leer when you’re torn between laughing and crying.

“I love your mom, Chris, but I don’t really want to be sounding like her, not now.”

“Not ever, I hope. But yes, we’ve got everything we came with…we just don’t have everything I’d like to be leaving with.” 

“Chris-“

I’m in his arms before I’ve even gotten his name out. I’m not going to fight it, for once I’m going to do exactly what I want to which is hold onto him just as hard as he’s holding on to me.

“I’m going to miss you.”

It’s hard to carry on a conversation when neither of us wants to remove our faces from the others neck, but we’re managing.

“I’m not going anywhere, Chris.”

“But I am.”

Okay, this I have to watch his face for, which is the only reason I’m moving back.

“Are you? I mean, sure, you’re going to San Francisco or wherever the hell your next date for the summer is, but are you really going anywhere?”

Chris has to think longer than I would actually like, but eventually he gets it.

“No, I’m not.”

“Good, because neither am I.”

Not now, not ever again.

“You know how to use a phone, and email, I expect to be hearing from you at all hours, Christian, got it? And I expect to actually hear from you when I can talk to Stevie as well.”

“She’s gonna miss you.”

“I already miss her.”

Closing his eyes, Chris brings his hands up to my face, trailing his fingers over every bump, every line, every inch of my face ending with his fingertips resting on my mouth, and without opening his eyes he leans forward, kissing my forehead, my nose, my cheeks and finally my mouth with his fingers still in place.

There’s a promise in there somewhere. We’ll work out exactly what it was later.

“We’ve got to go.”

“I know.”

Chris has to be the one that leaves me standing here, so it’s only fair that it’s me that pulls back, and takes his hand before we walk over to Stevie, Brandon and Rachel.

I get a kiss on the cheek from Rachel, and a quick hug from Brandon before they disappear onto the bus. Now comes the hardest part. When I kneel down I can see Stevie’s lower lip trembling.

“C’mere, sweetheart.”

There are tears soaking into my shirt as I look up at Chris somehow not overly surprised to see his eyes are just as wet as mine.

Stroking Stevie’s hair, I turn my head just enough to whisper into her ear. 

“Stevie, I know this hurts, but you’ll see me soon, and you can call.”

Even if it is me that wants to stomp my foot and scream ‘it’s not the same’.

A sniffle is my only answer. I think it was Chris’.

“Also, sweetheart, I need you to do something for me. Can I ask a really, really big favour?”

The nod yes is against my shoulder.

“Can you look after Daddy for me? I won’t be there to cuddle him, or you, so when he’s lonely for a hug, do you think you can give him one and tell him it’s from me? And if you want one, you can ask Daddy for a Steve hug.”

Stevie lifts her head and nails me with those Kane eyes.

“Who will you ask for cuddles when you’re lonely?”

Out of the mouths of babes.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. Maybe my mom, maybe Jensen, and maybe you’ll just have to make sure you save me lots of cuddles for when you see me next.”

“Soon?”

“As soon as I can, Stevie.”

Her arms are back around my neck again and I’m standing up, ready to hand her over to Christian. Christian though has other ideas and just wraps his arms around both of us and holds on for as long as he can.

They have to go.

Handing Stevie over to Chris, I kiss her cheek, then kiss Chris’ mouth as gently as I possibly can.

“It’s time to go.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Stevie’s hiding in Chris’ neck.

Fuck this hurts.

“Call me tonight, and call me…if you need anything, call?”

You know, anything. Like, maybe, me.

“I will. We will.”

“Just go, Chris, please. I can’t let you leave, you’re just gonna have to do it.”

He gets about three steps away, before he comes back, snatching one last kiss, before heading to the bus, holding his daughter against him. I know the reason he doesn’t look back is because he can’t.

It’s the same reason I can’t look up and meet the bright blue eyes that are peaking over his shoulder.

I do know one thing though, when he can bring himself to ask, I’ll be there in a heartbeat

~*~

~Steve’s POV~

“Hey, sweetheart.”

For as good an actor he is, Chris sucks at keeping his emotions out of his voice sometimes, especially when he’s on the phone. It’s like he thinks if you can’t see his face you won’t catch on that something’s wrong or something like that.

“Hey, you, what’s up?”

“Nothing, I just got in and I needed to hear your voice. Fuck, I didn’t wake you, did I? I just looked at the clock, I didn’t realise how late it is, even with the time difference.”

There’s that tell tale rambling again.

“I was up working, so don’t worry.” Because I’m doing enough of that for both of us right now. “Chris, seriously, what’s wrong?”

“I’m quitting Leverage.”

What the fuck? Hello left field, how’re you tonight?

“What? Why? What’s happening, Chris, talk to me.”

Panicking here. And really hating the fifteen hundred or so miles between us right now as well.

“Rachel’s sicker than any human ever should be with this pregnancy, still throwing up pretty much all day every day. Brandon’s not so slowly going insane, refusing to even think about having sex with her ever again.”

“I can see where he’s coming from in all honesty, but still not sure what this has to do with you quitting, babe.”

C’mon Chris get to the point, because even with out being around for most of the last seven years I know how hard you’ve worked for this. 

“I sent them home to Norman, so both families can fuss over them and about eighteen doctors can convince Brandon that Rachel and the baby are okay. God knows he hasn’t listened to the six he’s spoken too so far.”

And now it’s all starting to become a little clearer. Brandon and Rachel have been Chris’ main support system for Stevie for the last seven years and without them there…

“What’s happening with, Stevie, Christian?”

“I should have sent her back with them so Momma and Jenny could take care of her. Let them get her into school there.”

There’s a stupid idea if I ever heard one.

“And her Daddy? What happens when he misses her so much he can’t breathe without her?”

Logic so isn’t going to work at this moment, but it’s all I’ve got to work with.

“I pay the stupidest amount of money to her school in Nashville so she can travel with me, and ninety nine percent of the time she gets schooled here on the lot, so does that mean she should be in school in Chicago?”

The thought of ‘maybe’ doesn’t get verbalised before Christian keeps talking.

“Or should I be in Nashville? During the summer she tours with me, sure, but fuck none of this is fair on her. She should have friends her own age, sleepovers, birthday parties…I still have no fucking idea who Suzie is! I thought it was hard when she was a baby and I was working all day and up all night with her, but this is worse. I can’t do it alone. Brandon and Rachel need to be where they are, Momma and Jenny need to be with them.”

Now is probably the wrong time to point out that Momma Kane and Jenny would still come if he called, isn’t it?

I could also remind him of someone else he’s forgetting, but I think I know a better way to do that.

“Christian, apart from Brandon and Rachel going back to Norman, what’s happened?”

As big as that is, I know you, and it’s not enough to tip you this far over the edge.

“The studio hired me, Stevie, a nanny. I’m sure they checked reference after fucking reference…but she got to put Stevie to bed tonight and I fucking hate her for that. I don’t even know if Stevie got to hear the next chapter of the book we’ve been reading.”

If I had to guess, I’d say no. And not through any fault of the nanny either. Stevie may not exactly look like it, but that child is Kane through and through and she would have ever so politely told said nanny that her daddy was reading her that book and nobody else.

But everything else is making perfect sense now.

“Chris, you know Stevie’s not going to want to be anywhere you aren’t. I have no doubt she loves Brandon, Rachel and every other member of the Kane family, but you are her world, Chris. If you’d sent her back to Norman you’d both qualify as the most miserable people on the planet.”

“So I quit.”

“Why are you always at your stubbornest when I can’t reach out and slap you?”

“That’s reassuring, Carlson.”

I can’t stand still while I talk to him, not when I want to reach out and throttle him, so I start walking from room to room, mentally organising as I go.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t meant to be. Chris, you wanna know what I saw this summer? I saw a baby girl that thinks the sun shines out of her daddy’s ass and is possibly the most well adjusted kid ever. Chris, who’s to say what’s going to happen five years from now? Maybe travelling with her dad and watching him sing, act, whatever won’t be as cool as she thinks it is right now, and maybe she’ll want that home base with sleep overs and girlfriends, but right now, all she wants is you and I fail to see a solution in making you both miserable. Did you not see Stevie at all today?” 

“The nanny-“

“Does the nanny even have a name, baby?”

“Maddie, Mandy, Mary, something starting with an ‘M’.”

Nice to know you weren’t too busy throwing a hissy fit to pay attention, Chris.

“Anyway, she brought Stevie onto the set for lunch after her lessons and I had a couple of hours with her on and off then.”

God, he sounds so beaten down.

“Not ideal, I get that, but how was she when she was there?”

Chris goes a little quiet then as he thinks, really thinks, about how his daughter was. I’m just continuing to walk around and stock take.

“She was excited about some math stuff she’d done because it was the first time she’d been able to do it and get it right. I couldn’t get her to stop talking long enough to start eating.”

That’s got me smiling, because I can just hear Chris’ halfhearted attempts to get her to eat when he’s too busy listening to be bothered with food.

“And after that?”

“She was just happy to be siting in my chair the queen of the world while everything went on around her. Everybody talks to her, spoils her, she’s grown up around these people.”

The tired is leeching from his voice, but it’s being replaced with something I can’t quite identify.

“So they’re like family to her as well, Chris?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t mean to tell you your business, but I think if you sent Stevie away from her second family and her favourite human in the universe, she might think she’d done something wrong and was in trouble, Chris.”

“Fuck.”

Now he’s back to tired as well as that something else.

“Chris, talk to me, please? Tell me what’s really wrong? Because from where I sit, Stevie isn’t the one with the issues right now, Daddy is.”

“I should be putting her first.”

He’s seriously thinking he doesn’t?

“You do! You are! Chris, I may not have told you this in as many words, but I am so fucking proud of you. Even before I knew about Stevie, I was proud of everything you’d done with your music and your acting. But neither of those amount to shit when they’re stacked against your greatest accomplishment in that little girl. She doesn’t think you’re incredible because you’re her daddy, she thinks she’s the luckiest kid in the world because her daddy is the best, period. And I am in awe of that, Christian.”

Please let him hear what I’m saying, and the answering silence tells me he just might be. There’s only so long I can let the quiet go on for though.

“Baby?”

The shuddering breath that answers me sounds oddly damp, and fuck taking stock, it can all wait.

“Brandon and Rachel are going to have their family and despite what Brand thinks, that baby won’t be an only child. They’ve probably only put it off this long because of helping me.”

“Chris, I’m sure they wouldn’t have had it any other way.” 

“Yeah, but will we ever know one way or the other? What is definite is they can’t, they fucking shouldn’t, come back to Stevie and me.”

Yeah, I’d bet Brandon would have a completely different point of view there but never mind.

“Christian, I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me.”

“I can’t do this alone. Well, I can, that’s not what I meant, I don’t want to, not anymore. And as much as I love and appreciate Brandon and Rachel, they’re not who I want to do this with either. I want what they have though, each other and their baby.”

C’mon baby, you can do it. God, please do it.

“I don’t know how to get what I want, Steve.”

This is seriously the least complicated thing you’ll ever have to do, Christian, really.

“Just ask for it.”

I can just see him standing there, running his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes tight enough to add to the headache I know he’s already worked himself into.

“Chris, stop thinking and just ask for what you want, just this once, let yourself ask.”

There’s not a chance in hell the answer will be no. Unless you want Shannon back and if that happens, Stevie will be down a father anyway so quitting won’t be necessary.

“It’s too much.”

I swear to god, right after I kiss him, I’m smacking him upside the head.

“Is it? Ask and find out, Christian.”

“I need to know-“

“No, Chris, right now it’s me that needs to know.”

It’ll all fall into place if you just open your mouth and-

“Come to Chicago and help me raise Stevie, please? I don’t know which order this should be in, but I need you, I love you and I want all of this with you. Please?”

Thank you, Jesus.

“Yes.”

Now come the two thousand questions spinning around his brain.

“Yes?”

Or not.

“Yes, I’ll be there by lunch tomorrow if I can manage it.”

“How long for? What about your house? Your work? Your shows?”

See, I knew those questions were in there somewhere.

“Is there a time limit on how long you want me there with the two of you?”

I know what I want, Chris. I just have to know for once in our lives we’re both reading the same page in the same book.

“When Stevie’s gone to college, I’m going to need somebody to stop me from going insane.”

“I’ll be there in the morning, Christian.”

Seriously, packing can wait until we’ve got time. As long as I’ve got clean jeans and underwear I can deal.

“Don’t fob me of, Carlson, what about everything else?”

When the fuck did Christian Kane become detail man? Yeah, don’t answer that, I know the answer already.

“I’m keeping the house. Not only do I love it, but a base in L.A. won’t be a bad thing for either of us. I can work anywhere, Chris. It’s song writing, I can do that in the fucking toilet if I have too. Fed Ex’ing the scripts to here or wherever you are makes no never mind. Other than that all I need is a recording studio and I think they might have them back east, they’re not just a crazy Californian thing you know.”

“A recording studio in Nashville?”

“ I know!”

He’s starting to sound better. Or easier. I think getting rid of the tired is going to take a little longer.

“And your shows?”

“I’m not saying I’ll never have to come back, babe, I will. But I can find new places to play. You just have to believe me when I say right now none of that is important. You are. Stevie is. Just let me get out there and we’ll do what people who want a life together have been doing since the dawn of time, we’ll work it out as we go.”

“It seems too easy, Steve.”

“You don’t think we’ve paid our dues ten times over?”

“I know you have.”

“No, babe, we both have. We spent seven years apart and we can never get that time back, and I’ll be fucked if I’m wasting any more. This is what we both want, easy, hard, too soon, too late, none of that matters.”

“C-can you hurry?”

“As soon as I humanly can, babe, I promise.”

“Good.”

I can hear Chris’ tears, but I don’t mention them because my eyes aren’t dry either.

“Okay, I have some clothes to throw in a bag and a plane ticket to book, I need you to do me a favour right now though.”

“Pick you up?”

“Not what I meant, it’ll be quicker if I cab it, you know it will. Besides aren’t you kind of working tomorrow?”

“Kind of might be the operative word.”

I know.

“By lunch, Christian, by lunch. But right now, you’re exhausted, and I need to make sure you’ll get some sleep.”

“Are you instructing me to go jerk off?” 

My head shakes as I laugh.

“No, you keep your hands off of anything like that that pops up, I’ll take care of that tomorrow night when I take care of the rest of you.”

“Gee, thanks you tease, so how am I going to get to sleep?”

“Do you still sleep better with music playing?”

“Yeah.”

“Go kiss Stevie, take a hot shower, I’m going to send a file to your laptop and it should be there by the time you’re done. It’s something new, something just for you, and I think it’ll help you sleep. You do know how to use your computer to play music, right?”

It’s probably a good thing Chris can’t see the smirk on my face right now, but it’s a very old joke at the expense of Chris’ lack of technological skills. I can hear the smile in his voice when he answers though so it was worth it.

“I’m not anywhere near as bad as I used to be you know.”

“I know, and I have the dirty emails to prove it. Just put the track on repeat and if nothing else I think it’ll help you relax enough to be able to at least function tomorrow.”

“You singing is not going to help with the whole you not wanting me to jack off thing though.”

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow night with all kinds of bells and whistles, I promise. But you’re also in luck, this piece is just guitar and mandolin. I had to write a little instrumental for an upcoming episode, Jensen’s character is meeting his soul mate, something I’m sure neither of them will notice for another two seasons, but anyway, when I wrote the music all I could think of was you and Stevie. It’s called ‘Our Song’ and to me it’s a lullaby. There might be lyrics later on, and if there are, they’ll be just for us.”

“I miss you.”

Strangely those are words I hear even less than ‘I love you’ and even if I knew they were true back then, the fact he’s actually saying them says so much more.

“Less than twenty four hours, much less than. I have to go pack, Chris, call me if you need me.”

“I will, but, ummm, don’t forget our song.”

“I won’t, babe. Go kiss your baby for me. Night.”

It’s another old habit, but the one of us that says good night always hangs up before the other can answer. I don’t know how it started, why it started or even how come after all these years we still do it. Doesn’t matter, it’s not important. Calling the airport, my mom and packing is.

~*~

~Chris’ POV~

I don’t know how I haven’t fucked up take after take, and I don’t know why I haven’t been pulled aside and told I’m acting with all the skill of a tomato trying to be a banana this morning. In fact I couldn’t tell you one line or scene from anything I’ve done so far today, because all I can concentrate on is Steve said lunch time and it’s almost time for the nanny to bring Stevie down from her lessons.

“Christian? Still with us?”

Wha-

“Yeah, sure, I’m good to go.”

On utter remote control, but I’m here. The takes get finished and I’m still none the wiser as to what it is I’m doing here.

Half an hour later, lunch is called and there’s no sign of Steve, Stevie or the fucking nanny.

I have no idea which of the six people around me I’m talking too, when I mutter something about going to get Stevie, but three of them answer me with an absent ‘sure, Christian’. 

Aldis though taps me on my shoulder.

“To your left, Christian. She’s been standing there with a blond for about the last ten minutes.”

Blond? The nanny is a brunette.

Turning in the direction pointed out to me, for a second I can’t breathe, let alone move. Standing there, holding Stevie’s hand, is Steve. He’s here and he’s real.

God, I want to run to them both, but I’m about to embarrass myself enough without adding that into the mix. Steve just smiles as I come closer, Stevie is bouncing as she starts to talk.

“Daddy, My Steve is here!”

Sometime in the last few months, Stevie decided that My Steve is her name for Steve and the look on his face when she calls him that is something else.

“He sure is, sugar.”

There’s about six feet between us now, and Stevie’s not letting go of Steve to come to me, she’s dragging him with her. 

It’s the expression on his face that finally clues me into the hesitancy he’s showing.

“They’re family, darlin’, c’mere.”

And just like that I’ve got an armful of Carlson and a beautiful little girl clinging to both of our middles. When my hand goes to stroke her hair, I find Steve’s hand already there threading through her curls. Pulling back just far enough to cup his jaw, my eyes search his face looking for I’m not sure what. At least I’m not sure until I see the acceptance, the love and the peace there and that’s when I know I’ve found it.

“Thank you.”

I know he meant to answer me, I saw his mouth start to open, but kissing him is way too important. It’s nothing more than my lips pressed into his, but it still gets a little girly giggle and the odd clap of applause, which has me hiding my face in his neck. When Steve speaks, it’s a whisper that’s for me and me alone.

“I told you I’d be here.”

His next words though are for every one.

“Now, a certain little somebody promised me food, and since I skipped breakfast, I’m hungry.”

It’s like Steve’s sentence consists of the magic words our lives needed. Everything falls into place and this part of my world accepts Steve like he was always here to begin with. Stevie grabs both of us by the hand again, dragging us forward as she introduces her Steve to everybody from Tim to Julie in catering as we go. When we finally get to the food, the time I should be spending eating before I have to head back to make-up is spent listening to my daughter tell her Steve everything and absolutely nothing as he listens like she’s got the meaning of life all sewn up.

If you’ve got that, who cares about food.

My afternoon passes a whole lot like my morning with me having fuck all idea what happens one minute to the next. But apparently I’m still hitting my marks because nobody’s ripping me a new one. One thing has changed though. When I look over, there are two people sitting in my chair waiting for me.

~*~

“That’s it, we’re done. Will Christian Kane please leave the building?”

They think they’re funny.

Steve and Stevie disappeared to my trailer about half an hour ago, so I’m not so subtly giving Aldis the bird as I head in that direction.

You know how some times in life you think you know what to expect? When you walk around that corner you’ve got a fair idea of what will be waiting for you? I thought I knew what would be happening with Steve and Stevie when I opened the door to my trailer, you know, there’d be music, or singing or laughter. Okay, so I didn’t know exactly, but what greets me wasn’t on my list. Steve is laying on the bed, the headboard against his back, with his legs spread just enough for Stevie to lay between them, her head on his chest as he threads his fingers through her hair and reads her some part of Charlotte’s Web. 

It’s not like she hasn’t heard it fifty times before, so it doesn’t matter where you start and where you end whenever you pick it up anymore. 

But it’s never been Steve she’s cuddled into, safe and secure in his arms as he reads quietly, his voice changing tone and pitch as he moves from the pig into the spider.

“We know you’re there, Chris. Stevie’s ready for home, dinner and bed I think. You good to go?”

Coming over to them, I sit down, kissing Steve quickly, before leaning down to Stevie’s level.

“Still awake, sugar?”

Tired eyes blink up at me as a small hand lands vaguely on my cheek.

“My Steve was reading my book, Daddy.” 

I see no bath in her future tonight.

“So I heard, but it’s time to back to the apartment now. Mrs Kennedy will have made us some dinner, then I think it’ll be bedtime for you.

“But My Steve, Daddy.”

Steve puts the book down, tucking it under the pillow as he sits up, shifting Stevie into his lap.

“Stevie, I know you’re really sleepy, but I have an important question to ask, would that be all right?”

Okay, colour me confused, but Stevie’s nodding, watching Steve so intently.

“I’d like to stay with you and Daddy for a while, would that be okay with you?”

He’s asking Stevie’s permission.

“So you’d be here in the morning?”

Steve is nodding so solemnly.

“I would, sweetheart, and I’d be staying in Daddy’s bed, if it was okay with you.”

Because you know if she says no, he’ll get up every fucking night for the next ten years and move to the spare room or the couch before she wakes up.

The answer doesn’t come in words though, it comes with Stevie throwing her arms around Steve’s neck and kissing his cheek. Steve’s eyes are wet when he turns to me, trying to smile.

“You wanna take us home?”

More than anything. But home for me is Tennessee. Or it was, because now I’m not so sure.

“Christian?”

Actually, yeah, I am sure. I’m sure that this is home, right here, with these two people, wherever the hell we are.

“I’m fine, let’s go, the driver’s waiting.”

“You gonna take her, Chris? I don’t think she’s up to walking.”

“No, I think she’s fine with you, you need a hand to stand up?”

“Chris?”

Petting Stevie’s hair, I lean in, kissing Steve again.

“You have her permission, My Steve, you always had mine, so let’s go.”

As we walkout, I realise I’ve never been so happy to see my daughter in somebody else’s arms before. It feels better than I ever thought it could.

~*~

~Steve’s POV~

“She go down okay?” 

Considering Stevie was pretty much asleep in her mashed potatoes I can’t see why she wouldn’t have.

“Out like a light. Steve…you didn’t have to leave us alone.”

I’ve been sitting in the dark in Chris’ bedroom since I left them, just quietly looking out the window, thinking. Chris is unsure of something right now, because he’s still leaning on the doorjamb, instead of coming closer.

“You want to come over here and talk to me, Christian? Because I have some things I want to give you, but I think we also need to talk, so here, please?”

When Chris is nervous, he suffers from verbal diarrhoea, when he’s scared, he shrinks, and he’s decreasing in stature right now. I just sit there, waiting for him to come to me. It takes a while, but it does happen and the first thing I do when he sits down is take his hand, lacing my fingers with his.

“Chris, you and Stevie are going to need some alone time. I know you’ve had Brandon around you, but I’m going to be here more than him, because I don’t have a Rachel to go home too. I don’t want either of you thinking I’m trying to take what you have away from either one of you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t, which is why I left you two alone. Baby, this isn’t anything to worry about, it’s not because I don’t want to be a part of both of you so deeply that there is no start or beginning to you and me, there’s just us, it just means I’m okay with Daddy and Stevie time. I’m actually kind of hoping there’ll be Steve and Stevie time in there as well.”

“That would be My Steve and Stevie time.”

Chris’ shoulders are starting to square again. 

“Yeah, that it would. God, Chris, do you have any idea…of course you do, you’re her daddy, but I’m her My Steve and that kind of makes me feel like I’m king of the world.”

The smile on Chris’ face is this new combination of Stevie’s smile, and my smile and it looks incredible spread across his mouth.

“I know. To have her trust you that much…there is no higher honour. Then again, it’s also something that’s left me sleepless more than a few nights over the years. The good out weighs the bad though, ten fold.”

“Never doubted that for a second, Christian. I just…God, you have to know how much it means to me to share this with you.” 

Please tell me you get this, what I’m trying to tell you. Because, yes, a family is something I’ve always wanted, but this is a family with *you*.

“Steve, I saw my daughter in someone else’s arms tonight, and for once I wasn’t itching to take her back because she belongs with me. Does that tell you I understand clearly enough?”

“It does, babe, it more than does. But if that’s how you feel, why the shrinking violet thing just before?”

“I just need to make sure…that you didn’t feel left out I guess, and I’ve done that. But now you can tell me why you’re sitting here in the dark though, that’d be nice to know.”

As an answer, ‘thinking’ will just freak him out all over again.

“I was just waiting for you.”

“Liar.”

It’s not a lie. Not totally anyway.

“Well, I was waiting for you, but I was also thinking. About Stevie, about being My Steve, about you and me. All of this. Just thinking about how much my life has changed, all because of some stupid awards ceremony I changed my mind about going to twenty times over.”

“I’d ask you if you were happy about all of those changes, but I know you are because we’ve already covered that tonight. How much of a mess did you leave everything in L.A.?”

I’d tell Chris it doesn’t matter, but now that he’s a grown up, he wants real answers to these kind of questions.

“Nothing too bad. The housekeeper’s gonna empty out the fridge of anything perishable. She and Mom are going to look after my plants. I’m working on new stuff for Jen’s show, and, a couple of other things, so I didn’t have any shows booked. Like I said, they’ll send me the scripts and whatever else I might need here, and I figure I can work in the mornings when Stevie’s at school or late night when she’s in bed.”

Why the hell is Chris shaking his head?

“I didn’t ask you here to be a babysitter, sweetheart, the studio already hired me one of those.”

“No, but you did ask me to be a part of this and help you with Stevie, and that’s what I’m going to do. Chris, don’t you get it? This isn’t any kind of sacrifice on my behalf, I love it. Some afternoons we might have to hire a sitter, if I have a dead line or whatever, but I see no reason to keep Abby, whose name doesn’t start with ‘M’ by the way, on staff. I get that this, us, Stevie, isn’t a part time job. We’re both just lucky enough that we have a career we can work around our lives like we’re able too.”

“I have something for you.”

I guess that means I’ve tamed the ‘when is this all going to blow up in our faces’ monster.

“I have two something’s for you.”

Squeezing Chris’ hand hard before I let go, I move over to my bag grabbing what I want before coming back to him and handing him the something I bought in some quirky airport shop first. 

The look on his face when he opens the bag and pulls out a string of sleigh bells is all kinds of priceless.

“Steve, I love you, but what the hell?”

Yes, there is a method in my madness.

“Without turning around and looking, tell me, is there a lock on your bedroom door?” 

At least he has the decency to look sheepish.

“I don’t know. Steve, I told you, I don’t bring people to where Stevie is.”

“Oh, believe me, I’m more than a lot grateful for that, but as much as I love Stevie, I do not want her walking in on me riding you.”

Which is something we need to do soon, like tonight even.

“I can lock the door.”

He can lock the door that doesn’t have a lock on it, go Chris. Yes, I did actually look.

“I’m sure you can. Just like I’m sure it can snow in L.A. if the planets align just right. I’m also just as sure neither will happen with anything approaching regularity.”

“Stevie’s gonna have to learn about knocking.”

“Yeah, she is, but it’s not gonna happen instantly. So in the mean time we hang the bells on the door and that should give us enough warning to at least get decent.”

There is nothing like one of Chris’ real smiles, absolutely nothing. Never has been, never will be.

“If I’m the dad, why’re you thinking about this?”

“Because I want to get laid, and I’m the only child? I don’t really know, I just know I refuse to turn Stevie’s life upside down and to start with I’m going to work around both of you as much as possible, because we all need to find our feet.”

Kissing me quickly, Chris moves to hang the bells on the door handle before picking something up from his dresser and coming back to me.

We both have pieces of paper in our hands.

I’m smiling and about to speak when Chris cuts me off.

“No, this time it’s my turn to go first. I know you said this isn’t a sacrifice, but it’s hard for me to watch you change everything in your life to fit around mine. I’ve had this waiting for you for a month or so now, I just didn’t want it to be something I read to you over the phone.”

Unfolding the paper, he lays in my lap. I don’t have to read it to know what it says.

“I want you to know I’m clean, but it’s more than that. I’m clean and I’m going to stay clean because there is nobody else. There will be nobody else. This is it, you and me forever and ever, to death do us part.”

All I can do is give Chris the sheet of paper I’m currently wringing in my hands.

“I think you know what that says.”

“Yeah, it says you love me, and you’re staying here with me until I’m fat and you’re bald. If I ask nicely will you take me to bed now? Because it’s been too long, and, fuck, I need.”

There isn’t much on the Chris and Steve list of things we’ve never done, but bareback is one of them. 

“I think I mentioned riding you, didn’t I?”

“You did, and can you please not mention it again, or I’ll be coming before I’ve even got my jeans off.”

“Has it been that long, Kane?”

I’m teasing.

Chris isn’t.

“Since I made love to you? It’s been forever.”

Oh god.

“I’m going to get me naked, you’re going to get you naked. Because if I even touch you right now, I’ll never survive until the main event. You have two minutes, move.”

Roughly ninety second later. We’re both naked, our clothes are vaguely in the area of the hamper, but more importantly I’m in Christian’s bed under the covers and under him.

His hands are buried in my hair, his mouth is moving along my jawbone as the rest of his body presses into mine from our shoulders to our toes.

Short or tall never bothered me, I was always the perfect height for Chris.

Knotting my hands in his hair, I’m dragging his mouth back to mine, kissing him with everything I have. And everything involves lips, tongues and teeth. God, even our hands are involved with this kiss. By the time we’re shifting apart to take in the proper amounts of oxygen our hips are actually trying to pull away from each other. This won’t last for hours, or even minutes for that matter, but it will not end until Chris is inside of me.

“Baby, we need lube, something…I need you.”

“Steve, sweetheart…oh fuck.”

Yes, I am sucking at his neck. Not hard enough to mark, but god it’s so tempting.

But I know what he’s thinking.

“Yes, it’s been a while. No, you won’t hurt me.”

“You’re getting prepped properly, darlin’, so why don’t you just lay back and enjoy it.”

“Chris-“

“You won’t be alone when it happens, Steve, I promise.”

“Then stop teasing and start prepping…just fucking hurry up while you do it.”

Climbing over me, Chris ends up falling on top of me as I fumbles in his bedside drawer. He’s hard against my chest and he needs to move *now*.

His hips rubbing working his cock against my sternum is not what I had in mind.

“Christian…stop, hurry…fuck, will you get off me and get in me.”

When Chris does move to sit between the legs I’m spreading in a way that amounts to an engraved invitation, it takes me a minute or so to work out what the hell he is doing.

“Wha-“

It’s a brand new bottle of lube and he can’t get the seal broken on it. It’d almost be cute and sweet and adorable…if it was happening next week. There’s no way I can stop myself from snatching the bottle from him so I don’t even try.

“Gimme that, and gimme your mouth while I’m at it.”

Ripping this damn thing open is hard enough, but with Chris mouthing along my ribs it’s fucking impossible. If I thought he’d go without the lube…

Got it.

And if Chris won’t move this along, I will. He doesn’t even notice as I open the bottle, and wet my fingers. He’s still not paying attention when my foot shifts to his shoulder. Then again, his mouth is on my hip and if I didn’t have an objective, I wouldn’t be paying attention either.

Two of my slick fingers slide into me, and while I was trying to say Christian’s name, that’s not what came out. Whatever you wanna call the noise I made, it does what I wanted it to, and Chris raises his head to look at me.

“Steve?”

My fingers push back into me as my hips push upward towards any contact they can find with any part of Chris’ body.

“You wouldn’t…ahhh, fuck…you wouldn’t hurry up.”

Well, Chris was looking at my face, now he’s just watching my fingers move in and out of me with his jaw dropped.

“Fuck, Steve.”

“Yes, fuck Steve, please fuck Steve. Steve doesn’t want his fingers, he’s had it with his fingers for a very long time. He wants your cock and he wants it hard and fast and pounding him.”

My hand is still moving, and Christian’s still watching. If neither of us moves and moves soon, it’ll be over and neither of us are in our twenty’s anymore.

This time it’s me that’s so caught up in what I’m doing I don’t notice that Chris has moved until he grabs at my hand stopping it with my two fingers buried inside of me. All I’d have to do is wiggle my fingers upward, and-

“Are you ready? Because as soon as I taking these out of you they’re getting replaced with my sex and if you’re not ready-“

Has he not been listening?

“In. Me. Now.”

He looks like he wants to argue with me, wants to say something else that now is not the time or place for, but thankfully he changed his mind and tugs on my arm until my fingers slip from my body, and he crawls up the bed, pushing my legs even further apart as he comes up to cover me.

“I know you want me to hurry, and I will, after this.”

And with the word ‘this’ his cock is against my opening. I don’t know when he slicked himself up, I don’t care. I just know that he’s almost there, and almost isn’t good enough.

“Chris, please. Oh god, please baby, fucking please.”

“It’s just me, sweetheart, this is just me.”

And that’s when it clicks what ‘this’ is. 

It’s nothing but Chris and lube as he pushes into me. Some logically part of my mind is trying to tell me that modern condoms aren’t like fucking with a dick wrapped in leather hide, the logical part of my mind can go fuck itself with a pointy stick. This is more, better, like nothing I can remember.

Like a first time that actually counts for something.

“T-talk to me, Chris…tell me. I need t-to know.”

Thankfully he doesn’t need to ask what.

“I can’t…I don’t k-know how…heat, tight…your fucking heartbeat…you’ll see. Y-you’ll see.”

He’s right, I will.

“Steve?”

“Please?”

And just like that he gives me what I want. The hard and fast drag of him pulling from my body, then the quick snap of him pushing home again, over and over. There’s no teasing now, thank god. Every stroke is touching that spot inside of me, he’s leaning on his elbows with his arms tucked into my sides as watches everything about me.

When my hand moves between us, he doesn’t say a word, just nods without taking his eyes away from my face. 

This is…intimate in a way we’ve never done before and it has fuck all to do with the lack of a condom.

That’s how it sneaks up on me; that thought along with Chris touching every part of me there is and I’m done. The second I feel the first throb of my cock, I let go, wanting to feel nothing but Chris as my orgasm rolls through like a wave break that just wants to keep on coming.

The feel of Chris flooding inside of me as he falls on top of me just adds to that force of nature feeling around us.

There’s no screaming, no cursing, there’s just us and the feel of Chris’ wet, sticky cock against my inner thigh when he pulls out of me and let’s me get a little more comfortable.

Does he realise I’m just fine, even with his come leaking out of my ass? 

When he lays back down on top of me, I’m fairly certain I’m never moving again. 

~*~

~Steve’s POV~

Something smells wrong. The air feels wrong, tastes wrong and there’s a duck quaking somewhere telling me this is all wrong.

Shannon’s here to get Stevie for the night and I don’t like it. More to the point, I don’t like her.

She’s blonde, go figure, and has one of those figures that falls the wrong side of tiny bordering on for fucks sake, eat. An educated guess tells me it doesn’t come naturally. Her smile moves her lips, but not a whole lot else. Her voice has this nowhere accent and she’s barely looked at Stevie. Chris, now him she’s studying like a final exam.

I stayed inside when she turned up, letting Chris and Stevie do the meet and greet thing alone in a way I haven’t done in months. But I needed to see this woman, check her out, without Chris trying to talk over everything, bending over backward like he does when he just wants everybody to get along.

So I’ve watched and done my own studying and the conclusion I’ve reached is, I don’t like her. 

Chris notices when Stevie moves to come back inside, saying something to her that I can’t hear. Shannon doesn’t even seem to notice that Stevie exists.

How does Chris not see this?

I’m waiting when Stevie opens the door, holding out my hand.

“C’mon, let’s get you all packed, little lady.”

Stevie just nods, more lifeless than I’ve ever seen her before. Maybe I’m over reacting to the woman Chris got pregnant and Stevie’s getting sick?

But she still hasn’t said a word when I pull out her bag and sit it on the bed beside her.

“Okay, Miss Stevie, we have your pyjamas, a change of underwear, a change of clothes what else do we need?”

Nothing.

Fuck this.

Sitting down beside Stevie, I wrap an arm around her middle pulling her into my side.

“What’s wrong, baby? If you don’t want to go, or you’re not feeling well, we can just tell Daddy and Mom that.”

No, that’s not weird to be saying those two words together in this circumstance, not at all.

“Can we go for ice cream when I get home tomorrow?”

Not what I was expecting, but okay.

“I’ll ask Daddy, but I doubt it’ll be a problem, Stevie.”

“Can I take Teddy Daddy?”

I know it was stupid, and I know she was almost seven when I brought it, but I had to go back to L.A. a while back, and I missed both Chris and Stevie that much…I ended up in a toy shop, looking at stuffed toys like I would have done when Steve was a newborn, if I’d known about her then. I found this teddy bear, two foot high and dressed in blue jean, a western shirt and the most lopsided cowboy hat I’ve ever seen. I felt ridiculous dragging it back on the plane, mostly because I couldn’t bare to shove it in the overhead luggage rack and kept on feeling like an idiot right up until Stevie squealed when she saw it and told me her Daddy Bear was the best thing ever.

I thought the best thing ever was the look of horror on Chris’ face when she called him Daddy Bear, but I wouldn’t have told Stevie that.

“Of course, you can take Daddy Bear. What else do you need? Your hairbrush? Some ribbons?”

“No, Mom doesn’t do my hair like Daddy does.”

Yes, Chris does her hair every morning, it’s their morning thing. I get braids for going to bed time.

I put her brush in the bag.

“A book? You can read yourself part of Charlotte’s Web tonight if you want too.”

We have four copies of that book at least. One here, two in Chicago, and another in L.A.

“Okay.”

The book goes into the bag.

“Are we done?”

What else does a little girl need to take to her moms? Does she have stuff there, you know, clothes, toys? Apparently she doesn’t have a copy of her favourite book.

“I think we’re done, My Steve.”

“C’mon then, little lady, let’s go see what Daddy and…Shannon are up too.”

No, I couldn’t say it again.

Helping Stevie tie her shoes, I grab her bag and taking her hand we start back down to Chris…and her. Half way down the stairs, I come to a dead stop.

If I was ever to write a list called ‘Things I never want to see my boyfriend doing’, handing the woman that gave birth to his daughter an envelope while he tried not to look around guiltily would be on it. In fact it would be in the top ten, and probably be numbers three through ten repeatedly.

“My Steve?”

Oh, yeah, Stevie.

“What, sweetie?”

“Why’re we standing in the middle of the stairs like statues?”

Because I know there’s a rule somewhere that says you can’t tell a seven year old you want to smack her father upside the head, and that you want to do it hard and repeatedly.

“Nothing, sweetie. C’mon, let’s go.”

As we head down the rest of the stairs, I really don’t know who’s dreading this more, me or Stevie.

“Chris, Stevie’s ready to go.”

The smile he gives me as he turns around to face both of us does nothing to remove the eau de guilt thing Chris has happening.

“Okay. Good, Shannon, this is Steve. Steve, this is Stevie’s mom, Shannon.”

I’d like to hold out my hand, well, yeah, I wouldn’t, but it’s kind of not an issue anyway. One hand is holding an over night bag, and the other is being squeezed as hard as a little girl can squeeze.

“Hey.”

Go away. Get very fucking far away from my family.

“I guess we’ll be off then. We’ll see you tomorrow, Chris. About three?”

“Three’s good.”

Yeah, three’s great, never’s better. Leaving the two of them to their bullshit, I bend down cuddling Stevie hard, and whisper ever so quietly in her ear.

“You call us if you need us, little lady. I don’t care what time it is, or what your mom says, okay?”

She nods against my shoulder.

“Good girl. Now can I please have a kiss?”

I get that and another cuddle into the bargain.

“I love you, My Steve.”

That’s a recent development I’ll never be sick of hearing.

“I love you too, Stephanie Judith Kane. Now, I think Daddy’s waiting for some love.”

Standing up, I hand Shannon Stevie’s bag.

“It was nice meeting you, Shannon. Chris, I’ve got a phone call to make, I’ll be upstairs.”

I can’t leave without giving the top of Stevie’s head one last kiss.

“See you tomorrow, baby.”

Without speaking to anybody else, I’m heading back upstairs, to our bedroom. I’d like to pretend it’s to keep my temper under control, but I can’t, because I don’t want it under control. When Chris comes upstairs fifteen minutes later I’ve decided I’m going to kill him. Well, maybe not kill him, but hurt him. A lot.

“What the fuck crawled up your ass and died, Carlson? You couldn’t be civil to Shannon? She’s Stevie’s mom!”

“I was civil.”

Unlike now. Now I’m snarling.

“Like fuck you were!”

“What was in the envelope, Chris?”

Not so smug now, are you, Kane? Though I’d rather him jumping all over me and asking me what envelope, than looking like a kid caught with his hand jammed elbow deep in the cookie jar.

“Well, what was in the package, Chris?”

“Money.”

Surprise, fucking surprise. I wonder if I’d be happier if the answer was to my face rather than his shoes.

“So when you said you’d paid Shannon’s expenses, and I thought you meant while she was pregnant, I was wrong, yes? You meant what exactly? For the term of her natural life? I’m guessing you paid her tuition as well. Does she even fucking work, Kane?”

“I don’t expect you to understand.”

“You don’t expect me to understand what? And just a word of warning, be very fucking careful how you answer that.”

Now he meets my eyes, I’m just too mad to care.

“I begged her to fucking keep my baby, Steve. And I do mean begged.”

“I would have done the same thing. So fucking what.”

“She was nineteen, pregnant, in college, it wasn’t easy for her.”

Oh please.

“I’ll bet it was the easiest fucking thing she’s ever done. She would have been put out for what? The five or so months she was showing and now, seven years later she’s still scoring the pay off? That’s a sweet fucking deal, Christian.”

“What’s your problem, Steve? It’s my money.”

I should have known he’d take it there.

“My problem? Apart from you lying and keeping shit from me? I want to know what you’re paying Shannon for. If you paid for college, you’ve paid your debt for her having Stevie. So now you’re doing what exactly? Paying her to stay in Stevie’s life? Keeping her around so Stevie doesn’t have to know Shannon didn’t give a fuck? Doesn’t give a fuck?”

I know I’ve score a bullseye when Chris flinches and every drop of colour leaches from his skin. 

You fucking idiot, Kane.

“She’s her mom.”

“She’s the woman whose vagina Stevie came out of, there’s a difference!”

“Stevie needs her.”

No, she doesn’t. But let’s try something else, jackass.

“What do you call your mom, Christian?”

“You know-“

“Just fucking answer me!”

“Momma! She’s my fucking Momma!”

“Forty one years old and you still call her ‘Momma.’ You would have taught Stevie to use the same word if you though Shannon deserved it! So tell me, have you ever called Shannon Stevie’s momma?”

I get nothing but Christian standing in front of me trying to remember how to swallow.

“Fucking answer me, Christian!”

“Once! The day Stevie was born…she told me she was no hick, and she was nobody’s momma.”

For somebody as proud of his roots as Christian…that fucking bitch.

“So why is she still around? That is, apart from the killer pay days that is.”

“She’s Stevie’s mom.”

He is so stubborn and such a broken record when he thinks he has a point. Which is so something he fucking doesn’t have right at this moment.

“Prove it! Stevie doesn’t need her, she has a family, she has our moms, Jenny, Rachel! She doesn’t even like Shannon, she didn’t even want to go tonight!”

“Don’t tell me what my daughter wants.”

I don’t know which of us looks more horrified as soon as those words leave Chris’ mouth, but I have to get out of here before I hurl over his shoes.

“Steve-“

Shrugging off the hand he reaches out to me I don’t even look at him as I grab my car keys from the dresser and walk out.

~*~

“You’re still here.”

I’ve been sitting in the fucking cold on the back porch for the last hour, but I still want to smack him stupid for thinking I’d be gone.

Yeah, more cooling off is required.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

If I had to bet, I’d say Chris is standing beside the door, leaning against the house, with his shoulders fallen down around his kidneys. It’s nothing more than he deserves.

“You took your car keys.”

My hand just waves a lit cigarette in the air.

“I needed a smoke, and I keep them in my car so Stevie won’t find them.”

Beside, I don’t smoke that much anymore. Usually just when it’s a choice between a cigarette and a stiff drink.

“I wouldn’t blame you for leaving.”

Just fucking great.

“Thanks for making me feel like everything’s been for nothing, Christian, I needed that.”

“I’m not saying I want you to go…I’m just saying I probably deserve it.”

It’s only by watching the glowing end of the cigarette that I can see how much I’m shaking in the dark.

_‘Let me give you one bit of advice, Steve. Stop walking on eggshells around Chris. I mean I understand why you do it, but you can’t keep going like that, that’s not a life you can keep living, it’s not real, and you both deserve real, honest, the fighting and the making up, not the seven fucking years of silence. So promise me next time you think he needs some space or he expects you to walk out the door and keep going, get in his face, rattle his cage, don’t let him let you go. Can you do that for me?’_

Yeah, Dave, I can do that for you. 

Stubbing out the butt in the ashtray I keep hidden under the stairs, I stand up and walk over to Chris, grabbing him by the elbow and drag him into the kitchen.

“See that knife block, the one just beside the sink. I love those knives, I can’t cook without them, they cost me a stupid amount of money, but I love them.”

Chris opens his mouth, and then shuts it as soon as I glare at him, still dragging him down the hall to the music room. 

This room looks almost the same as it did when I first walked into it however many fucking months ago. Paper and crockery wise it’s the same, what’s different is I threw a blanket over the table last week because Stevie wanted to play in a tent while I was working.

“See that?”

I’m pointing to my guitars in the corner.

“And that?”

My Emmy is next to his whatever fucking award it is keeping the closet door open. 

“How about that?”

There’s two gold records for my soundtrack work hanging next to his on the wall.

“You see that, all of that? Good, because follow me.”

Not that I’m giving him any option, I still have a death grip on his arm.

This time I’m heading upstairs, almost frogmarching him until we stop in front of Stevie’s door.

“In there is where my daughter sleeps, and if you ever, *ever* claim her without including me again, the new asshole I rip you will never heal.”

A dozen steps or so more, we’re walking into our room as I push him down into our bed and start prowling around the room. 

The closet.

“My clothes are all in there, and half of Stevie’s Christmas presents.”

The dresser is next and I’m jerking the top drawer open, pulling out a piece of paper.

“A copy of my will, Christian, read it sometime.”

It gets thrown on the floor.

The last thing I get to is a picture of the three of us.

“This is a picture of my family. My daughter and my mule headed fucking mate who still thinks he’s some kind of lone wolf. Well he can just get over that real fucking fast. Because, sure we’ll fucking fight, this is you and me after all, but fucking hell, Chris, my life is here, every fucking drop of it is here, with you in this house.”

Chris gets as far as opening his mouth, I just glare hard enough to get him to shut it again and head back to that top draw in the dresser. This time what I take out isn’t getting thrown on the floor.

“How the hell you could think I’d just fucking walk out?”

I’m done screaming now, so I just sit down quietly beside Chris.

“Do you remember the night I first arrived in Chicago, when we gave each other the results of our AIDS tests?”

Chris says nothing, just looks at me, as wide-eyed as Stevie can be at times.

“You can talk now, I’m not going to jump down your throat again.”

Closing my eyes, I just wait, because if he doesn’t remember, I have no idea what I’m going to do.

“T-that I was clean, that I was staying clean, b-because there would be nobody else. Until d-death do we part.”

God, you do love me after all.

“And you told me when I gave you the same piece of paper that it meant I loved you, and I was staying with you…or something like that, I remember the first words you said more.”

They meant more.

“I said it meant you were staying until I was fat, and you were bald.”

“You still have a six pack, I’ve got a full head of hair and you still thought I was leaving. Maybe this’ll help you remember next time.”

Opening my hand, I drop a small black flocked box into his lap.

“Open it, please.”

And he does, finding a thick, simple, white gold wedding band inside.

“I brought that the very next day…in Chicago. I could have bought something in a dozen different designs, or it could have had fifty different stones, but I wanted…something strong, and dependable, with no fuss, just like you. Of course, I didn’t expect to be giving it to you after the fight from fucking hell, but after I bought it, I couldn’t figure out when to give it you…or even if I should. But now…fuck, Chris, I love you, for all intents and purposes as far as I’m concerned we were married that night in Chicago. And you don’t walk out on that because somebody says something stupid.”

“I hurt you.”

No, really?

“Yeah, you did. But I want you to put that on and maybe it’ll remind you just because I want to slap you silly doesn’t mean I don’t still love you as well.”

“I don’t have anything for you.”

Has he not been listening? 

“Chris, you’ve given me everything, you’ve given me my life. If you want me to wear a ring, I will, but don’t for a second think you haven’t given me everything.”

He holds out the box and his hand.

“Put it on me?”

Taking the band from the box, I slide it onto his left hand. When it’s in place, I lift his hand kissing it in place.

“You’re not a lone wolf anymore, Chris.”

“Wolves mate for life.”

Dear god after all of this, they fucking better.

“I love you.”

“I want to go get Stevie.”

“We will, first thing in the morning. And you can politely tell Shannon there will be no more money, she’s welcome to be a part of Stevie’s life, but she won’t be paid for her time anymore.”

“I want you to wear a ring.”

“I said I would.”

I want to do nothing more to be honest.

“I want Stevie to help me pick it out.”

“So what you’re saying is I could be wearing a purple ring from a gumball machine?”

“You wouldn’t care if that’s what she picked out, would you?”

Now he’s getting it.

“No, I wouldn’t. Chris…I’m exhausted. Can I just lay down with you and sleep? I need to sleep with your heartbeat in my ear.”

I need that more than I need air right now.

Without a word, Chris just lays down, pulling me on top of him and settling my head right over his heart. As my eyes close, his fingers are in my hair and his voice when he speaks is more a rumble against my cheek I feel than something I actually hear.

“I, Christian Michael Kane, take thee Steven Paul Carlson, to be my husband, and before God I promise to be a faithful and true husband…" 

I fall asleep a married man. 

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'ed by chainedinbeads, neroli66, titti and meredevachon. 
> 
> That being said though all of the remaining mistakes are so my fault.


End file.
